Victim of Circumstance
by Amarantus
Summary: Morbid curiosity be damned, he should have left when he still had the chance and was still blissfully ignorant. Scintillating greed and glorious ambition often have a secret agenda. What sort of a simpleton would willingly poison himself with the presence of chaotic children?
1. Decadence

It was certainly not the type of situation he was used to dealing with. A strange combination of completely unfamiliar sentiments came over him as he stared at his reflection in his sublime Baroque mirror, whose framework was adorned with golden vines and small amethyst grapes. He tapped one absentmindedly with his index finger as he tried to decipher the mechanism behind the insane proposition of a certain brawny buffoon. It was quite amusing in the beginning, when the first letter had arrived via the usual diplomatic formalities between Fairy and Anti-Fairy World, but things did escalate to a very interesting degree when he kept on refusing to schedule a meeting. Anti-Cosmo was displeased to find that annoying messages were worming their merry way into every imaginable aspect of his life, and the sole reason for his current dilemma was the fact that his own tea cups had turned against him and screamed in Jorgenʼs booming voice. Oh, or maybe it was the exploding water closet. No, it must have been the killer crumpets and flesh-eating scones. _For evilʼs sake, how embarassing._ It did not do him well. Vulnerability had a horrible effect on his psyche. Truth be told, he could have sworn that the pair of emeralds that was staring back at him were not his own eyes. No. _Definitely not. Those eyes are dripping with fear and panic. They disgust me. That is not me. Not even my moronic counterpart would have the nerve to appear in public with that terror-stricken expression on his face._

Of course, there was no room available for such ridiculous and useless things in his profession. Fear?! It was nigh impossible for a person in position of power and in possession of great responsibility to survive such a mistake. He could not afford any sort of weakness; his enemies would eat him alive. Moreover, his own son would stab him both in the back and in the front repeatedly if he were to falter and stop emanating his usual aura of superiority and charisma. Maybe he just lacked patience. That was the trait he admired his mother for: the ability to keep a cool mind and a steady, resilient heart. Mama Anti-Cosma was truly the embodiment of poise and reason. Discretion had always been of utter importance to her, a calm woman capable of solving a crisis by pouring cold water over it and slapping it into equilibrium. Schemes represented the weapon and tool of unimaginative cowards in her opinion; unfortunately, she had been incapable of passing on her _credo_ to her son. His paranoia and tendency to find refuge in clandestine activities were the primary characteristic of his fatherʼs personality. Papa Anti-Cosma was indeed a refined galant, a true gentleman and a cultivated genius, but far too severe and greedy for his own good. Things had gone to the deuce the moment Anti-Cosmo made the idiotic blunder of turning his father into a fly when he received his wand. His mother was forced to act as Regent and organise a search party for her missing husband. Eventually they did find him and turned him back to normal, but his nerves had already gone down the drain.

He still remembered the fury he had felt when he was dragged from the freedom of his youth and had to assume the duties of the Heir Apparent. It would be a lie to say that he hadnʼt been interested, but not under those circumstances. He stood there, wearing his shirt and waistcoat, his overcoat hanging from the edge of the couch. His hair was presentable, but he was having problems with his scarf. He tied it and untied it with his nervous and cold fingers, his irritation level growing every second; oh, why was it so difficult to tie the bloody thing? He sighed and took out a piece of cloth to polish his monocle. As he busied himself with this activity, he failed to register the presence of another being that had entered his study. He only realised this when he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and pull him closer to the warm feminine figure behind him; when did Anti-Wanda become so sneaky?

ʺWhy arenʼt ya cominʼ ta bed?ʺ

ʺBecause Jorgen has taken leave of his senses.ʺ

He leaned his head back on her shoulder and enjoyed the fragrance of her wonderfully fluffy hair. Honey and sunshine. What an odd combination for a creature that represented the darker side of reality. He traced her cheek with his fingers and focused his efforts on leaving small kisses on her neck. Her reaction to his fangs tickling the surface of her skin was priceless. It wouldnʼt be a surprise to him if he started purring like a very satisfied black cat. Warmth...she had always been so welcoming. Suddenly, he felt her grip tighten and he could not help but gasp.

ʺOuch! What is it, woman?!ʺ

ʺThem poor lilʼ senses! He left them all alone in the cold? Are ya gonna go save them? Er...what do they look like anyway? Oh, lemme guess; kittens! Lilʼ darlinʼ kittens!ʺ

ʺOh, for evilʼs sake, there is only so much one person can take at a time. Yes, my dear, kittens. Little kittens that live in your head and give sage advice and useful instructions; the only problem is that most idiots ignore them.ʺ

As he spoke, he tried his best to release himself before her hold on his midriff got even tighter. It was a very interesting scene to behold, and even more so if we calculate in the fact that Anti-Wanda giggled hysterically when she saw the reflection of Anti-Cozzie in the mirror in front of them. He was struggling for some reason unknown to her, but she did put the pieces of the puzzle together when he started coughing.

ʺOh, I get it! Iʼm chokinʼ ya! Why didnʼt ya say somethinʼ?ʺ

ʺYou...may... want...to call the ambulance...ʺ

ʺAh, ya big baby.ʺ

She made a snort and placed her hands on her hips. Meanwhile, a very grateful Anti-Cosmo was desperately trying to inhale as much as his lungs would physically allow and flailed his arms about with unnecesary pathos.

ʺWhy do the Fates detest my existence?! Why do they always have to toy with my life?ʺ

ʺHuh?ʺ

ʺLook at this.ʺ

He conjured the letter he had received several weeks prior and tossed it in his wifeʼs hands. The small green envelope had been sealed with wax and bore the star emblem of the Fairies. There wasnʼt much of the seal left on it now when it was already broken, but the upper part of the golden star was discernable. The letter within was uncharacteristically long, handwritten(courtesy of Binky, one could suppose), formal to the point that even made Anti-Cosmo wince and the language was quite archaic. Not normal. Not even the usual mature style used in official correspondence, but the type that had once served only in the most drastic and desperate situations. Wars were declared in such a language, alliances were forged, complex situations resolved. In short, something that had not been used in centuries. Not even when they had been condemned to eternal imprisonment. But that was done through a perfidious act, so no official document had ever been issued or delivered.

She held it in her hands and tried to make some sense of it.

ʺI canʼt even read this darn thing. What sorta language is it?ʺ

ʺThat style is a clear indicator that we are either in great peril...or that Jorgen is under the false impression that every day is the first day of April. Whatever it may be of those two options, I am definitely not going to assist in my own murder by going and granting him an audience! Who does that boob think he is?! I bet not even their bloody Council is familiar with this. They would never allow this sort of nonsense!ʺ

ʺWhat in tarnation are ya talkinʼ of? I thought ya were going to save them senses.ʺ

ʺAh, if only I had your head for a day. That would be a true vacation.ʺ

ʺEr...ʺ

ʺJust a figure of speech, beloved.ʺ

He averted his gaze back to the mirror and continued his mission of tying the scarf properly; it was quite hard to achieve its usual puffy effect. His fingers were icy and sweaty, which did nothing to simplify his not-as-easy-as-it-looks work. Eventually, he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ah, scarves could be so evil and vicious. But the vision of dismembering von Strangle did make him feel a bit better about life.

ʺLemme get that for ya, honey.ʺ

One would percieve it as a true miracle that she was capable of some very prodigious acts at the most ridiculous moment. There was this awkward time when Foop and he had been staring at the chessboard for hours, sweating and experiencing tremors over every single move. Insane emeralds of his eyes trying to defeat and triumph over sociopathic amethysts of Foop. A pair of curious pink diamonds had come along and wanted to join in the little game with horsies and queens. She had picked up a piece, much to her sonʼs and husbandʼs chagrin, and moved it diagonally. Satisfied, she had also decided to move the horsie from the opposite side to keep the first little lonely darlinʼ soldier company. ( _They are called Knights and Bishops! Mother, what are you doing?)_. A few moves later, she had created the ideal playdate: she combined those who behaved and got rid of trouble makers. She had given her son a quick peck on the cheek and she floated away to an unknown direction. Anti-Cosmoʼs jaw had dropped and Foop was probably having some difficulty with blinking. ( _Oh, my...I...think I should go and lie down. Yes.)_

She untied the messy knot he had made and began to show her skill; he refused to dress himself by using magic. After a few adjustments with her deft fingers, she summoned his sapphire broach and pinned it on. It was adorable when she was the one in charge of affairs. She would make a goofy grin and bounce with joy.

ʺThere! All fancy and cute!ʺ

ʺCome here, my evil temptress.ʺ

ʺHey! Yer squishinʼ me!ʺ

ʺNo, Iʼm not. I am merely acting like the lovestruck fool that I am. And I am getting even with you for trying to take my breath away ‒ literally.ʺ

ʺHmph, ya great big British wacko.ʺ

With arms locked around her middle, he nuzzled her neck and whispered gentle words to soothe and placate her false anger. Verses of the most treasured and revered poems were being recited and partially sung when he arrived at the older Greek ones. Maybe he should conjure a lyre and do it the old way. Or maybe hire a satyr to play it for him in the background.

ʺAnti-Cosmo?ʺ

ʺYes?ʺ

ʺWhat about that no good letter?ʺ

ʺI am trying to woo you. Do not spoil my attempts.ʺ

ʺBut ya were so upset! Itʼs gonna keep eatinʼ ya and yer gonna be mean to me when ya get angry!ʺ

ʺOh, enough. I never mean it, you ninny! Has it not dawned on you that you are the only person keeping me from going berserk and blowing the universe to bits? That you are the sole reason why I get out of bed every day and face this travesty of a life?!ʺ

ʺAh, shucks, how sweet of ya. But ya have to do what ya must. I hate to see ya so grumpy. Ya get that funny lilʼ look in yer eyes when yer nervous. Like a possum that sleeps right-side up!ʺ

Preposterous. _Possum? I am not a possum in any manner whatsoever!_ Still, the logic of her argument was conspiring against him; quite an amazing feat, considering the fact that Anti-Wanda was the author. Morbid curiosity be damned to a thousand torments, he was preparing to give in and indulge von Strangle in his request. It was more than obvious that he would continue to persist and annoy the Anti-Fairy to no end. A trap? Well, what sort of an idiot would announce his intentions several weeks in advance and repeat them a_d nauseam_ to a very irritated potential victim of his schemes? Hmmm, letʼs leave that question unanswered.

Magic. Anti-Cosmo was a renowned expert at all branches of the magical craft, a gifted conjurer and sorcerer par excellence. Necessary precaution would be taken, several well cast defensive spells and a masterfully conducted teleportation. Yes. That would get him out of Jorgenʼs impromptu trap. He left his wifeʼs side and approached the arched window of his private study; the Gothic ornements were quite soothing and meditative, and the glass itself had been painted with the Chartres blue colour. Yes, it was horribly difficult to reconstruct the formula that had been lost in the first half of the second millenium, but he was persistent. It had been a shame that he wasnʼt present at the construction of the Chartres cathedral itself, as it would have been easier to bribe the masons and the artisans into sharing their secret. He contemplated the figures on the vitrail.

ʺI am approaching the scaffold like a brainless dolt.ʺ

ʺNo, yer not. Yer just standinʼ in place.ʺ

ʺI am going to meet him.ʺ

ʺOh! Ya go anʼ give him a good whoopinʼ for leavinʼ those senses!ʺ

ʺHe is going to get a hard kick in the behind if this isnʼt a matter worth discussing. I will bring his heart in a jar and place it in the treasury.ʺ

ʺServes him right!ʺ

He grabbed his overcoat and buttoned it up. Casting one last glance at the room, he took Anti-Wandaʼs hand and pressed his lips on it. Her giggles reverberated around the study and she pulled him in for a tight hug. Not too tight, for fear that she would start crushing his thorax once more. He made a grin and allowed himself the liberty of giving her a playful pinch on the thigh.

ʺYa pervert!ʺ

ʺCouldnʼt resist.ʺ

As he floated down the vast corridors of his castle, he indulged himself in marvelling the beauty he had created through his own designs. The current version of the castle had been finished in the sixteenth century, when Anti-Cosmo decided to add the combined elements of both Gothic and Rennaissance architecture, which he had found so appealing in the Chambord castle, as a replacement of the initial donjon version that served for defense against sieges. However, he was forced to leave the outer walls that concealed most of the castle from public view. Corinthian columns and rib-caged vaults were quintessential to the inner design, along with carvings at the top of the typical thin Gothic pillars that formed intricate lace patterns. Statues of Greek deities and Roman equivalents were placed in most rooms, Rococo furniture, crystal chandeliers and the art of the Baroque, Classic and Romantic period.

He snapped out of his fantasies when he noticed a pair of glowing amethysts in the semi-darkness of the corridor. Frowning, he was forced to come to an abrupt stop. His son emerged from the shadows and made a mocking bow to the ruler of the realm.

ʺFather.ʺ

ʺUngrateful whelp. Shouldnʼt you be in bed?ʺ

ʺShouldnʼt you be rotting in an unmarked grave?ʺ

ʺFor your motherʼs sake, I will let that one pass. I would hate to mutilate her Foopy.ʺ

ʺOh, what a merciful gesture. Going soft with age.ʺ

ʺOur wonderful father-son relations aside, I need you to do something for me.ʺ

ʺI have better things to do than run errands for you like a common servant. You have no jurisdiction over me, you old codger.ʺ

ʺOh, I beg to differ, you rotten fruit of my loins.ʺ

Before the small cube could react, his father had shot a powerful blast of indigo energy from the onyx star of his wand in his direction. The impact of the blast had thrown him straight at the stone wall and he groaned in anguish and unbearable pain.

ʺNow, my son, let us try again. You were about to say that you would be thrilled to respect my wishes. And in a respectful and subservient tone typical for a common servant.ʺ

ʺWhat have you done to me? I canʼt move! LET ME GO!ʺ

ʺParalysis Spell. You too would know how to cast and counter it if you were not such a stubborn dunce. Now, let me reword this in the only language you undestand. I, the Leader of this world, am asking you, my worthless son, to keep your mother, my Consort, safe, while I am on a short business excursion. Is that too difficult for you?ʺ

ʺBusiness excursion?! At half an hour till midnight? Oh, you may have been able to sell that story to my idiotic mother, but I know that you are probably using it as an excuse to sneak out and participate in lecherous activities with random women of dubious behaviour.ʺ

Foop had to bite his tongue at the last word. He was merely trying to anger his father, but his last remark had gone too far. Anti-Cosmoʼs love and loyalty to Anti-Wanda was beyond discussion, and he knew that he would pay dearly for his insolence. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the blow; none came. How he loathed this body of an infant, the very one that would always tremble with fear and react to pain.

ʺYour grandfather would have slaughtered me for that sass.ʺ

ʺYes, well, you _are_ the main reason why Grandpa always gets a tad bit agitated everytime he hears buzzing sounds. That is even worse than my way of conduct.ʺ

ʺHear me well: there is potential danger in our proximity, and I need you to keep things under control should anything happen to me. Our archives will automatically relocate themselves and a barrier shall be lifted to protect our dimension. Your mother is incapable of acting as a temporary ruler and you are going to have to take care of the Anti-Fairies. Anti-Studwell and Anti-Cupid will be your advisors. We canʼt rely on Anti-Binky, he is far too chaotic.ʺ

ʺI beg your pardon? You are surely toying with my mind, because I could have sworn that you just offered me your post.ʺ

ʺOut of pure necessity. If I get captured or injured, I need to know that I can rely on you. Now, I am not asking you as a father, but as your ruler. And you are my heir, so I expect you to act the role.ʺ

ʺI knew I shouldnʼt have eaten that quiche that Mother had made.ʺ

ʺThis is serious! Jorgen has presented himself as a potential threat to the somewhat stable relationship between Fairy and Anti-Fairy World, which can only find its result in conflict. I have been given a temporary _salvus conductus_ to their world so I could participate in a ridiculous meeting. The outcome can only be speculated about and I need someone here to react if something undesirable happens. Are you aware of the seriousness of our situation?!ʺ

ʺI...suppose.ʺ

ʺWonderful.ʺ

The streets and alleys of the domain of Fairies were plagued by an omnipresent blue fog. It wound itself through every available surface, engulfing the buildings, streetlamps and other random objects; the night air was pleasant and the stars were enjoying themselves by sparkling and showing off their indifference. No Fairy would deign to show its face at such a godless time of the night. As the fog approached the entrance of a particularly large building that served as headquarters of the Fairy World administration, it grew darker and denser. Meanwhile, the rest of it had dissipated and the remaining smoke started to shape itself into a solid figure. Elegant black bat wings emerged and flapped, followed by a torso and a pair of arms. When the fog disappeared entirely, the head and the rest of his physical self took shape. He grabbed the handle of his wand and pressed it against the gates. A dark blue light manifested itself and disappeared. He crossed his arms and waited.

The turning of the lock made him twitch and his heart had decided to beat like a hammer drill. He was relieved to see the eyes of a very nervous Binky.

ʺUh, sir, um, Jorgen is waiting for you in his office. Oh, yeah, and do come in.ʺ

ʺRelax, I am not here to murder the entire town. Yet.ʺ

He made a diabolical grin and showed his canines in their full glory. Binky let out a little yelp and moved aside so the dark visitor could enter the hallway. White marble had lost its glowing splendour in the absence of light, and the golden ornements were reduced to black shapes. The silence was deafening. It almost reminded him of a mausoleum. Binky made a motion with his hand and led the way to the upper storey that contained von Strangleʼs official rooms. They ended up in a dark corridor illuminated by a shy ray of light that escaped from beneath the grand door that belonged to the brawny idiotʼs office. Binky knocked three times and paused. Then he used the tips of his fingers and tapped the door. Only then did the man give his permission for them to open it and enter.

ʺYouʼre on your own, sir.ʺ

ʺWhat the hell is wrong with all of you? What is all this nonsense and why are you being so mopey?!ʺ

ʺNot my place.ʺ

Irritated, Anti-Cosmo grabbed the handle and made a rough entrance, all decorum forgotten and left for dead. He was about to blast Jorgenʼs brains out, but then he paused and his mouth opened of its own will. The figure sitting at the desk was a pale shadow of what must have been Jorgen von Strangle. The fireplace was the sole provider of light and it cast a macabre combination of shadows on his face. He was...so thin. The veins on his ams protruding and giving off an unhealthy air. His tan skin reduced to a ghostly pallor.

ʺFor the love of..._Jorgen?ʺ_

ʺPuny Anti-Fairy! Stop staring at me with pity and sit down!ʺ

ʺJorgen, indeed it is you.ʺ

A feral growl escaped the Anti-Fairyʼs throat, for he was not used to such disrespectful treatment. Foop was an exception to the general rule, but still. He floated to the chair on the other side of the desk and banged his fist against the mahogany wood.

ʺYou have three seconds to tell me what you want. I ought to rip you to ribbons and decorate the room with your body parts!ʺ

ʺThat is just gross, AC. The janitor is going to kill you.ʺ

The familiar monotone drawl came from Anti-Cosmoʼs left. His eyes widened and he cast a glance at the barely illuminated corner of the office. HP was lounging in a leather armchair, sipping from his crystal glass and watching him with all the wisdom of a cynic. So grey, yet so colourful when it came to insults. Collaboration with him had always been a delight, but their visions of dominating the world were in perfect opposition. Order could not reconcile with chaos.

ʺWhat the bloody hell are you here for?ʺ

ʺBen Stein was too busy. Donʼt worry about time, by the way. I am charging Jorgen by the hour, so you can go on and prolong this as much as it pleases you. Youʼll get your revenge by forcing him to bankrupt.ʺ

ʺCharging him? For what?ʺ

ʺActing as the Devilʼs attorney and keeping my mouth shut. Cognac? Brought it just for this occasion. Although, I think that there is no amount of alcohol that could help Jorgen now.ʺ

ʺNo, thank you. I donʼt need that poison in my organism.ʺ

ʺGive it a minute or two. Sanderson is waiting in the car and blasting Eminem. Thank goodness I made the limousine sound-proof.ʺ

Meanwhile, a very up-beat Sanderson was uploading his newest break-dance achievement on TooYube. Just to make it appear that he was being constructive and diligent in sorting HPʼs affairs, he amused himself with the drafting of a document that would ensure that those cunning buggers would stop abusing loopholes in tax legislation. It annoyed him to no end that the final accounts were not in accordance with the planned income; may they all be plagued by inflation and a negative GDP!

Chasing the unsettling image of a Pixie listening to rap from his mind, Anti-Cosmo fixed his attention on the overgrown Fairy. Von Strangleʼs eyes were bloodshot and wild, the former dark green reduced to a glazy haze. His bottom lip trembling.

ʺVon Strangle, what is this rubbish?ʺ

ʺWinston. I think I condemned him to death.ʺ

ʺWinston?! Your godchild?ʺ

ʺYes. They will come for him...oh, what have I done?! It was all an accident, the magical interdiction had lifted somehow from my core and...and...I didnʼt even notice.ʺ

He let his face fall on the surface of the mahogany desk and made inarticulate sounds that sounded like faint cries. Anti-Cosmo was sorely tempted to leave while he still had the chance and was still blissfully ignorant, but curiosity was a nasty little thing. HP was more than happy to put salt on an open wound.

ʺIt sort of reminds me of the cyclic problems the modern economy has to deal with. Interventionism. Liberalism. Interventionism. Liberalism. And it goes on in a vicious circle.ʺ

ʺTranslation?ʺ

ʺJorgen has a knack for repeating catastrophic mistakes. Only this time it was not intentional. Do you want me to demonstrate it with plush toys?ʺ

Blink. Thoughts racing around and arriving at the forbidden zone. Sudden stop. Instant panic and realisation. Anti-Cosmoʼs eye twitched and he raised his wand in Jorgenʼs direction; he made no sign of resistance. Anti-Cosmo took deep breaths and let his fury pour in waves over him. Blinded by anger, he shot a blast that barely missed Jorgen and bounced off the mirror behind him. It found its way to the hearth and eradicated the fire, turning it into blue smoke and pouring darkness over the room. HP rolled his eyes and used his smartphone to shed some light on the crazy puerile duo he had the displeasure of dealing with.

ʺHP?ʺ

ʺYep?ʺ

ʺGive me the cognac and donʼt bother with a glass.ʺ

ʺWe got a live one here. Maybe we should organise a rave.ʺ

A crystal bottle appeared with a _ping _on the desk and Anti-Cosmo grabbed it without a second thought, removed the cork and swallowed a mouthful, his eyes never leaving Jorgen. His monocle fell off in the process, but he payed it no heed. Deciding that he needed something more to calm him down, he conjured a pipe and tobbacco. He took out an onyx lighter from his coat and did his best to light the pipe properly without collapsing. His right eye began to hurt.

ʺNow what? How long is it going to take your merciful and just Council to rip the boy apart and throw his remains in a ditch? Erase his existence from the memories of those who knew him? Who else knows about this?ʺ

ʺNobody.ʺ

ʺNot for long. If this gets out, you will cause a riot among Fairies. Has it not been enough that you have destroyed their fertility potential and ability to procreate? And, by doing that, ours too? This subject is tabboo, Jorgen. Need I remind you of the real reason why you no longer have wings? You are a murderer, Jorgen. Miss Powers blasted them off for a very good reason. And they will never grow back.ʺ

ʺStop it, damn you. Who was supposed to think that the damn kid had such emotional issues? The bonding process has already been placed in motion. He can shoot sparks and move objects. I had to bring him here ʺ

ʺOh, am I hurting you? Mission successful. I am not participating in this.ʺ

ʺOh, you are going to. Nana Boom Boom would be happy to blow you to pieces if you try to get out of this room. ʺ

ʺHow smashing. It must be eating you. Oh, guilt is such a successful parasite. Universal and never fails. Remember when Miss Powers was a little human Saxon girl? A refugee from a town desecrated by the Frankish armies, injured and horrified. Her tooth fell out when she lodged herself in an empty tree trunk in the forest, alone and trembling. The Tooth Fairy came to collect it. You had come along because you were bored. Oh, her screams echoed throughout the entire land. Your rough appearance made her think that the soldiers were back to slaughter her. Your wife had to seize her and calm her down. Nothing helped. A certain trait caught her attention though; your wings. It confused her and she came to an abrupt stop with her sobs. A sparkle of childish curiosity in her eyes and a weak smile. I believe that moment was quintessential for her future, the moment when she began to trust you. The Tooth Fairy had always wanted a daughter. You took her to Fairy World.ʺ

ʺIt was my first and only witch. Everybody was doing it. Damn Cosmo was the reason why we could no longer have children and we were forced to seek replacements. The problem is that they would undergo a transformation. Her eyes became violet, she grew a pair of wings, assumed the colours of the Tooth Fairy. Our joy and pride were indescribable.ʺ

ʺHow long does it take to become a familiar? A bond had to be created, because godchildren were officially assigned, not taken. The entire human culture is familiar with the notion of Faes and similar elvish creatures that steal children from the cradle, lure them into forests and raise them. So, whenever a Fairy was not qualified to get a godchild, they would snatch a baby and become a familiar. When the bond was created through love and other emotions, the magic was already lodged in the child. So the authorities had to grant it a status.ʺ

ʺSeveral years. It takes at least five years for them to adjust to the magic.ʺ

ʺOf course. Because a bond between a familiar and a witch is stronger than that of blood. But a ban was placed on the practice in the 17th century. For the Fairies at least; it was not in accordance with the _quid pro quo_ policy of the Council, the one that requires the faith of humans to power the Big Wand. Fairy Witches were gaining power from their Fairies, but their own faith could give none, for they were no longer human. Not affordable, donʼt you agree? But, there is a catch: the existing godchildren would form a bond, too, for their godparents were reluctant to lose them. So, the same curse that stops them from reproduction is currently stopping them from creating new witches and warlocks. You are handling godchildren like vermin, now! Ripping them away from their godparents and taking away their loving memories of the only parents they ever really had. Disgusting. I may be evil, but I despise all hypocrisy.ʺ

Anti-Cosmo leaned back in his chair and puffed a few smokes. The tobbacco was fresh and of excellent quality, which only made him angrier about the fact that he couldnʼt enjoy it the way he wanted to. How was it possible that Jorgen could make such a mistake? The old wounds had still not healed and many ghosts from the past were still waiting to get revenge. It was no joke, unfortunately. He would have preferred an attempt on his life, even. But to be faced with this...

ʺWe feed on the misery of human beings, Jorgen. Fairies give false hope and feed their power off the happiness it produces, Pixies fuel their world with ambition and Anti-Fairies have a limitless source of fear and superstition. You took the positive, we were left with the negative. But it takes effort to create a positive emotion. The negative is always present, no matter what. That is why we are never in danger of losing our power. You, on the other hand, have to create an image and keep it. Fairies are the ones that lead, and their humans follow. The Fairy Witch always follows the Fairy. Arthur was taken to Avalon. Oberon took the boy from his wife. Fairies taking orphans for themselves. The Anti-Fairies follow the human. We too were affected by your fertility bans and we have been forced to seek replacements as well. But we did not have godchildren. You were forced to create Fairy Witches when you could not receive a godchild, we had to create ours because we had nothing else. Invisible to humans and roaming the world, we were waiting for them to call us. We would come. Be it a boy that was battered by his parents or a lonely girl, we would plan revenge on their tormentors. Brought bad luck to them. Floating around the object of our obsession and affection, we would whisper to them, amuse them. Became their guardian spirits. Eventually, when our magic would find its way in their veins, they would start seeing us. They earned their power to see us. After a few years, they became full Anti-Fairy witches and warlocks. They would stay in their own world, and we would become the spirit that belongs to their descendants as well.

Often we had to disguise ourselves as a black cat, or an owl, or a toad, spiders and bats, black hounds, general domestic animals that helped their witch. The modern notion of their kind was created through our version of them. Your own were mistaken as Fairies and good spirits. In truth, they both liked each other and had taken similar roles in society. Doctors, astronomers, scholars, midwives...the only difference was the source of their power. And the fact that our witches were vengeful. We destroyed crops, brought hailstorms, ruined financial transactions and similar things. Humans were always afraid of magic, but they could not kill a real witch. They shared our immortality. But a witchling, a child of a witch that had not yet bonded with a familiar, was gifted with power, but a mortal nonetheless. They were vulnerable, and they could be killed. This is were you enter. What happened in the 17th century? Hmmm?

Those who had familiars, but had not yet achieved the level of a real witch, were mortal too. As the Fairies grew angry with the decision of the Council, you took matters in your own overgrown hands. Fairies and Fairy Witches were taking all the remaining witchlings and bringing them to Fairy World, for fear that they would be killed. Nobody could harm them there and they would reach maturity under protection. Their parents had to help them adapt and they did this by giving them wings. Several decades later, you turned your focus on Anti-Fairy Witches that were living on Earth. As the secrecy policy became more strict than ever, you had to get rid of our witchlings. It was the equivalent to genocide. But, you had to ensure that there would be no escape; so you had to seal Anti-Fairy World and stop the Anti-Fairies. How much magic did it take to imprison us? It must have taken you years to recover.

Every single one. Behind a magic barrier. For three and a half centuries. Tell me, Jorgen, what went through your mind? You have inspired the minds of madmen to hunt down and murder witchlings! Their parents could not grant them immortality, not without their familiar. They were running and living like refugees, dreading the cities and inhabited places. Treaties were written on how to torture them, horrible crimes were commited against their person. Imagine the insanity of full witches. Of the pain of losing their Anti-Fairy. They went mad. And when their own children were slaughtered, they turned on the children of humans and did not refrain from murdering them as a punishment. Amazing that that would be the century when the Hansel and Gretel story was brought to its finishing touches. The Anti-Fairies did all they could to escape. They could work magic from within the barrier, though. Conjuring mirrors to see their witches and witchlings, they were bearing witness to the carnage only a sick mind would create. Do you remember how we pleaded? For every witchling dead, one mirror broken. Again and again. We are the only ones allowed to break mirrors. Bad luck befalls those who dare take that prerogative from us. Broken mirrors represent the souls of our late offspring.

Oh, she knew it. She knew that you were behind it all. And so, Miss Powers came to you, cursed you for destroying her own kin and used the very magic that was given to her through your love to destroy your wings. The symbol of the trust she had once given to you.ʺ

ʺYou have no idea what it was like then. I had to, there was no other way. You were becoming chaotic, the entire system was on the verge of collapsing!ʺ

ʺMy sister-in-lawʼs warlock was of Dutch descent, and he was forced to flee for the American continent. He came to what is now Dimmsdale. Quite remarkable, considering the fact that the Californian peninsula was not even a colony then. But he moved several people in need of habitation there and created a small town. They loved him. He was charismatic and tried all he could to appear as a perfect member of human society. But his sanity was declining, for he was incapable of living without his companion. Did you know that our witches lose the ability to fly when depressed? That is why they use broomsticks as a replacement. In order to keep stability, he had to throw accusations at undesirable foreigners, making them appear as witches. I believe you know him. Alden Bitteroot. Imagine my surprise when I took a peek at Anti-Blondaʼs mirror: a buck-toothed boy in pink that arrived from the future with the counterparts of both Anti-Wanda and me! That was the first time I ever saw Timothy, irony be damned. Naturally, Alden felt the need to get rid of the suspicious boy. But, luck was not on his side. His ability to fly lost and his magic diminished, he ended up at the bottom of a very interesting well. Planted by you, if I am correct. It was sucking his life energy, so he could not teleport. He climbed, breaking his nails on the sharp stone and leaving his blood as the only trace of his existence, choking on the carbon monoxide. Grieving, nervous and desperate. For he had a fifteen year old son hidden in the vast basement of his cottage. The son that had waited for days before he realised that his father was not coming back from outside. A great amount of courage must have taken him to get out and continue his life without him. Three centuries later, Alden finally climbed up. Again, he fell down. We canʼt even reach him because the curses you have placed are far too potent.

Alden was not a bad person. I had personally tutored the boy when Anti-Blonda introduced him to our world. A small child with thick black hair, black eyes and spectacles. Sarcastic, studious and obsessive. Anti-Blonda could not bear it. Her mind undone. Do you know where my wifeʼs sister is today? In a sanitarium, burning the roots of plants and dreading the holes in the ground.

The house is still inhabited by a descendant. He had found the underground hiding place and turned it into his private laboratory. Spitting image of Alden. Diluted, but still present magic of Anti-Fairies manifesting itself in him. Born on the thirteenth day of the fifth month, genius, knows how to figure out a situation and provide stunninng details just by guessing them. And possesses an incredible ability to attach to magical creatures. Now, what sort of a sacrilege is it that Cosmo and Wanda ended up as godparents to the descendant of an Anti-Fairy Warlock?! And that they would then be given to another person that was responsible for Aldenʼs demise? Amazing coincidence. Common denominator-Timothy Turner. His current student.

Does your conscience burn you? Are you not ashamed of the fact that you are leeching off Denzel Crocker to power Fairy World? ʺ

ʺEnough of this pillaging through the buried past. I have summoned you to propose an offer that I know that you would not dream of refusing; HP?ʺ

ʺOh, finally. I was already on the verge of puking from all the melodrama.ʺ

He used his magic smartphone to summon a black leather briefcase. There were multiple locks and combination mechanisms that he had imbued with magic for additional security. Any normal person would have already given up after decoding the first twenty locks, but a workaholic Pixie would enjoy every single bit of time spent on solving problems and living up to the challenge. He hummed to himself as he toyed with numbers and letters, secretly relishing the fact that he was boring the hell out of the Fairy and the Anti-Fairy in the room. A small snort escaped him when he saw that Anti-Cosmo was forcing himself to stiffle his yawns. Several clicks later, he was able to lift the lid and extract the precious material from within.

ʺI have outdone myself with this one, I have to say. This adorable little bundle of several hundred pages is the official contract which can only be entered into if the parties possess the capacity to represent a magical world. Two is the minimum number, and each of us has to provide our seal that stands for our respective races. The original shall be kept in my personal archives, since I represent the neutral world, while you two are the primary beneficiaries of this contract. You shall both receive a copy and store it where nobody can find it. Now, Jorgen, I have also brought you the false contract you will be showing to the Council when we are done. The effects will take place the very moment you place your signature. I suggest you give it a thorough read and inspection, and I shall then show you the fine print.ʺ

Anti-Cosmoʼs reaction was quite droll; he choked on his pipe and got cinders all over the floor. HP was relieved that he did not sully the contracts that he had been writing for weeks. The Anti-Fairy grabbed the original and returned his monocle in its place. He scanned the articles and the paragraphs, footnotes and addendums, rights and forbearances, but could not for the life of him realise the purpose of this garbage.

ʺThe catch?ʺ

ʺFine print. You are going to need an electronic microscope.ʺ

ʺYou are joking.ʺ

ʺThere. Between the lines in the parenthesis. This is the main part.ʺ

Using a gigantic electronic microscope to read a contract was really not Anti-Cosmoʼs idea of how one should spend the early hours of the morning. He adjusted the screws and held his monocle in place as he positioned himself. Two lengthy sentences almost gave him a cardiac arrest.

ʺYou...giving me... us...oh, evil be praised, godchildren.ʺ

ʺAs a start, only those that qualify. The same clause is present in the version meant for the Council. But ours has a few twists.ʺ

ʺWhy this? Jorgen, why are you doing this? Why, now?ʺ

ʺBecause that is the only way for Winston to be assigned to Anti-Jorgen and the Anti-Tooth Fairy. He would be out of reach of Fairy jurisdiction and under your protection.ʺ

ʺAnd why should I agree to getting you out of the mess that is entirely the product of your negligence? It is not my fault that you have initiated the transformation in Winston.ʺ

ʺThe fine print beneath the fine print next to the lines. On every odd page.ʺ

It took him a great deal of strength to resist the urge to throw the contract in HPʼs face. He began to search the relevant information. A diabolical grin appeared on his face and he continued with a newly found vitality. Oh, what a discovery. Full freedom of creation...official status...guaranteed security...and a little present.

ʺNot that I am complaining, but this is high treason. I like it. So, Jorgen, when did you figure this out? Inspired by the Trojan horse, no doubt.ʺ

ʺContinue reading and shut your trap.ʺ

Anti-Cosmo was thrilled. Extremely happy. Going through pure ecstasy. Lightning appeared out of nowhere and his cackle echoed throughout the entire Fairy World. Removing his eye from the ocular, he indulged himself in a small victory dance and proclaimed all Fairies idiotic losers that would one day bow to him.

ʺAC, quit the whole evil cliché routine and just sign the damn thing.ʺ

Early adolescent years represent a period of time in which one learns the basics of social customs and tedious rules of conduct. Reality itself often has a different definition of them and applies it with impunity. Often it throws random obstacles and unexpected benefits to those that would normally merit a prize more akin to their behaviour and treatment of their peers. As time goes on with its endless journey, children grow and divide themselves into ridiculous groups that exclude those who do not meet their requirements. The lonely congregate with their kindred souls and form little groups of their own. Timmy was almost schizophrenic when it came to these things; one part of him wanted to be loved and accepted in the ranks of the popular kids, while the other was perfectly content to remain an eccentric outlaw that actually gave a damn about his true friends. The latter part was stronger, but the former would always try to grab the spotlight.

Little lies, silly selfish wishes and a desire to be admired were his favourite recipe for a spicy catastrophe. But, his noble side would always punch his lower self in the face and grab the steering wheel to make a rapid turn before they both crashed themselves at the gates of oblivion. In short, he was a good person at heart. The only problem was that he would often confuse his arrogance with bravery and his cynicism with malice. In truth, his arrogance was malice and his cynicism bravery. His secret world-weary frame of spirit was the main source of his clever ideas and the ability to value the love he felt for those that would not stay with him forever.

He stared at the ceiling and did his best not to scream just for the heck of it. Insomnia had been killing him for the past few weeks and he had had enough of trying to explain to his parents that the purple bags under his eyes were probably just a sign of puberty; idiots. It could not be explained with words. He was turning twelve in March and was probably breaking all records when it came to the length of time of being in possession of Fairies. Three, no less.

He buried his head in the fluffy pillows and begged for his conscious mind to drift away so it could let him rest and sleep, but to no avail. Maybe it was the fact that Cosmoʼs pleading eyes had made his nerves crack. Munching contests were serious business. No, it must have been Wandaʼs strict, albeit adorable, expression when she had watched them dive into a giant cake like a bunch of hogs. The woman had the patience of a Sphinx. She had not been particularly overjoyed when both of them pulled her in to participate in the messy chaos, but she laughed nonetheless. Cosmoʼs strange little pearls of wisdom that could serve as a cure for both manic depression and psychosis. Wandaʼs ability to remain serious while saying something unbelievably funny. Love. Odd love. Cosmo and Wanda...the only ones that deserved the honour of calling themselves his parents. He had given them a little treasure in return. Violet eyes that made him melt with joy and forget the evil that lurks behind every corner. When will Poof be able to talk?

_Emotional much, Tim?_

ʺShut the heck up, you moron.ʺ

_I am not even gifted with speech. _

ʺTragic.ʺ

_You wonʼt be able to keep them. Donʼt be such a prick when I point out the truth you are unwilling to acknowledge. _

ʺNega, you are lucky I am too tired to start a real fight with you.ʺ

_Excuse me? I am you, you self-righteous bastard! All of this is you. You are having an inner monologue. It takes two in order to have a dialogue. I merely stand for all the emotions you perceive as negative, your fears and anger, your desires and suspicion. I am using the first person singular because you allow me to. Not to mention the necessity of being practical. You shove me in the darkness because, you have to admit, I am your common sense. Intelligence and imagination. I am the strength you use to defeat your enemies, I am the heart that keeps you from hiding from your mishaps, I am ambition and determination. Remember what your dad said to you two years ago? Be good. It would have been different if he had told you to be yourself. Then you would have turned into your opposite. Me? You became what you thought was evil. Not the opposite. You just became a different version of yourself. A typical villain would try to detroy the world. You went for the freaking make-up factory. That was your subconscious mind telling you that you hate it when people hide behind lies; you were sick of pretending to be something you will never be just to make people see you in a different light. An interesting way of assuring freedom to all those ashamed of their looks. The idiotic lair and clothes were just an embarassing bonus, primarily because you yourself thought that they were necessary._

ʺWhat a revelation. I already know all that. Hmph, destroying a make-up factory. The very source of human hypocrisy and the endless need to hide their imperfections behind a cheap layer of goo. I was doing them all a favour. So what if their social life goes through a drastic change? We could all be happy and ugly. No prob. Plus, I got to scare the crap out of Crocker. ʺ

_Yep._

ʺBut Cosmo and Wanda are off limits. There is no way I am opening that subject. Not untill I actually have to. And even then, I am prepared to fight with all my strength to keep them. I have already broken enough rules and survived such horrors just to stay their godchild. I saved Fairy World countless times, and this is how they reward me? By shunning me and doing all just to get rid of me? You know, maybe I should just let HP and Anti-Cosmo use Jorgenʼs head as a football prop.ʺ

_Ah, we should film it and upload it on TooYube! One million likes in the first few hours. Go modern technology, yay!_

ʺOh, I can see it happening. That would even make all the Fairies happy.ʺ

_You would still have the Council on your back. Can we build a little teeny laser to blast their hoods to cinders?_

ʺNo.ʺ

Timmy could see the first orange rays of the early sun. Five in the morning, no doubt there. Things had changed quite a bit in the last few months. Maturity was the primary culprit. The sign of his transformation being the fact that he was finally making peace with his inner demons. Gone were his toys, only the comics remained. He had even taken upon himself the task of denying Crocker the pleasure of humiliating him and ruining his sanity. It had been difficult for him to finally take out his math textbook and concentrate on the numbers that had a grudge against him, but he refused to give in. Hours and hours, days and days, weeks, months. Crockerʼs nervous breakdown when Timmy had received top grades in all subjects. A.J. making a small wink and congradulating him.

A well phrased wish and he had been capable of reconstructing Trixieʼs feelings before her memory was erased. A difficult and risky task for both Cosmo and Wanda; it was a success and they had been able to grasp that tiny bit of emotion and bringing it to the surface without actually touching her mind. He had then endeavoured to let things take their natural course. Comic store, her usual disguise, his careless walk, the two of them bumping into each other. Of course, her first reaction had frightened the living hell out of Timmy. When had she become so aggressive? But then he had sought to placate her by trading his rare edition with several of her own. To his surprise, she had agreed and shook his hand, nearly breaking his fingers.

It turned out to be an interesting friendship, one that required a certain dose of creativity and secrecy, but they did manage to go to the arcade every weekend. She would murder him on every game they played. He could not ask for more.

Five twenty. Five twenty and ten seconds...and an approaching headache with questionable intentions. Growing older. Curiosity worming its evil way into his consciousness and throwing ghastly scenarios in front of his dry eyes.

ʺI HATE THIS!ʺ

ʺPoof?ʺ

ʺOh, gosh, did I wake you up?ʺ

His godbrother floated above his head and crossed his arms. He conjured up a paper and pencil and scribbled something down, mumbling incoherent words under his breath. Timmy suddenly found himself with a very rude message. (_Of course you woke me up! Take your puberty angst elsewhere or get a freaking grip.)_

ʺOh, I am touched. Look, it is not my fault. Can you imagine what I have to keep on reliving? There is only one wish I have and none of you can grant it.ʺ

ʺPoof poof! Hmmm, poof?ʺ

ʺI want to see you grow up, buddy. ʺ

Some part of Timmyʼ common sense was begging him to shut up, for fear that Poof would cause some disaster if he were to give in to sadness. But, the image of his Fairies searching for the grave of someone who had been condemned to a permanent void made his insides twist. Poof did nothing; he just stared in the cerulean eyes of his godbrother, containing himself. He blinked a few times and bowed his head. Tears were useless. As he approached, he landed on top of Timmyʼs head and began to play with his hair. His lip quivering. Young children were not used to such distress, but he had been able to keep his balance and made an attempt to soothe Timmy. He buried his nose in Timmyʼs bang and made an attempt at singing. Melancholy sounds permeated the room and a betraying tear escaped Timmyʼs left eye. His right eye followed. Something impeding him from removing them, but soon he felt them disappear completely, as if they were never there.

ʺPoof, did you just cast a spell?ʺ

The confusion only augmented when he felt Poof shake his head. Timmy made a slight motion with his hand to take Poof down, but he stopped, shocked and mouth agape. Small purple sparks dancing merrily around his fingers.


	2. Ascension

Burning incense had no power over the decrepit heart of the malevolent spirit that had taken residence in Dimmsdale. Fatigue and age were taking their shameful toll, bitterness conquering all remaining bastions of crippled innocence. Mundane tasks and futile efforts corroding the spirit that had long ago specialised in the task of sprinkling malice with ridiculous ease. He took another drag from his Marlboro cigarette, disgusted by the fact that the water had already become lukewarm. Smoke and vapour had been necessary for him to numb his senses and summon the soothing touch of oblivion. Ethereal Pink Floyd echoed throughout the house. The horizon served as a stage for an enchanting display of golden and crimson, promising a new cold February morning. He tried to make a mental dissection of himself. The soft tissue of love had succumbed to necrosis, black bittersweet nectar of wickedness coursing through his soul like blood, benedictions and admiration once received had become a rusty blade in his chest. Denzel crushed the cigarette in the ashtray next to his bathtub and spat on the floor.

ʺNote to self: burn every New Age book in sight.ʺ

Five hours in the morning. He submerged himself once more, quite eager in his attempt to banish all erroneus thoughts from his decaying mind. And there were many. Chrysanthemums falling around the picture of his mother. Infernal flames charring butterfly nets, valuable notes and precious information once collected with the patience of a meticulous medieval scribe ruthlessly torn to pathetic pieces of cellulose material, volumes and volumes on Fae subspecies donated to schools and universities. He had nearly broken his already mutilated back while carrying gargantuan bags of cement and sealing the basement. Incense burning in every nook and cranny of his solitary home. Thirteen seconds passed and he returned to the surface, begging to be absolved and released, hoping that he would be purged of the madness that had been devouring his aching insides.

He grabbed his bathrobe and carefully stepped on the tiles. His hands trembling.

ʺKnowing my luck, it could only be an early stage of Parkinsonʼs disease.ʺ

Neighbours had been banging on the front door for hours, the intercom buzzing and announcing the presence of a furious congregation of middle-aged men deprived of their precious slumber. Such events tend to occur when one decides to use the stereoʼs volume capacity to the maximum. Their suffering had made him glow with unbridled mirth.( _Such a wonderful symphony of cries and pleas.)._ They had given up eventually. Petty cruelty had proven itself as a loyal and trustworthy companion, an effective shield that served as protection against the arrows of mockery, an alkaline solution that neutralised the acid effect of insults, the silicon that filled up the holes in his lonely life. Empathy had been banned to the barren lands of indifference.

He adjusted his spectacles and decided that it was high time for him to ingest an unhealthy amount of caffeine; the final refuge of a man that had regurgitated his very essence in order to comply with the silent wish of the person he had pushed into the cold embrace of non-being. Truth be told, the house was completely demolished. Disturbing illustrations and incoherent words covering the floral wallpaper, broken glass shattered all over the floor, pictures stained with tears arranged with respect and piety in the middle of a circle of black ribbons, morose chrysanthemums invoking the whisper of death, mirrors covered with black shrouds. Merry bonfires swallowing all his high-tech paraphernalia; empty cement bags representing the sad memory of the Crocker Cave being sealed and banished from his conscious thoughts.

Deciding that it would be best to add the finishing touches to the funeral pyre of his dignity, he descended to the living room and turned the volume down. He could feel the bile rise to his mouth. Something was off. A small lapis lazuli figurine of a grinning Robin Goodfellow. Perpetually frozen in the act of rubbing his hands and planning mischief. Denzel had never purchased anything that had to do with the half-bred son of Oberon. He took the odd little thing from the shelf and grabbed his mobile phone.

ʺBlasted imps, goblins and hobgoblins. Creating werelights in marshes and drowning gullible cretins, tying knots in our hair during the night, bringing bad luck...ʺ

Denzel dialed the number of the person that had represented both his salvation and potential demise. Her fiery tresses condemning him and inciting an heinous combination of lust and revulsion. Constant pondering. He went to fetch the coffee pot and placed the phone between his ear and shoulder. Robin Goodfellow ended up on the microwave.

ʺ_H-Hello?ʺ_

ʺHave you ever read anything by Pedro Calderon de la Barca?ʺ

ʺ_Denzel?! Do you have any idea what time it is?ʺ_

ʺVaguely...Answer.ʺ

ʺ_I know you are still in mourning, but it has been almost a month. You canʼt keep on acting like a spoiled child that doesnʼt get what it craves. Regardless, I finally made up my mind. I have tolerated you for far too long. I am giving up on this comedy.ʺ_

ʺWench, answer me!ʺ

_ʺNo. I am finished with you.ʺ_

ʺTough luck, Geraldine, I am not finished with you. Letʼs begin our little lesson. De la Barca was a renowned Spaniard, one of the last representatives of the Golden Age of Spanish literature and an example of Baroque authors from the Iberian peninsula. Baroque disgusts me. Contrasts, oxymorons, showing off, excess, propaganda, starving poets writing masterpieces for the pleasure of idle aristocrats that sit on the bones and flesh of reason, withering beauty and _tempus fugit, _fabric of reality reduced to mere rags and the odious presence of _memento mori_ zealots, sublime and profane fornicating on the grave of sanity. Irregularly shaped pearl.ʺ

ʺ_Do you really think that my patience flows in rivers?ʺ_

ʺMy love for you flows to the sea of bitter tears and unspoken curses.ʺ

ʺ_...You are not capable of such a thing. You are a recluse, you are a walking wraith, dead and numb. I have spent decades waiting for you, adoring the air you inhaled, admiring the talents of an idiot that lacked ambition. I was dying with you, rotting away, my youth relegated to mere sparkling glitter that concealed the gruesome truth. I gave you everything, my support, my love, my virginity...I hate you...ʺ_

ʺI have a present for you. I hope you will appreciate it.ʺ

_ʺI donʼt need anything.ʺ_

_ʺ_Fairies donʼt exist.ʺ

ʺ_...What did you just...ʺ_

Denzel poured the coffee in a mug and focused his energy on keeping his knees from giving up on him.

ʺDonʼt make me repeat it. My terms: we pretend that it was all just a nightmare. Irrelevant shadows, deceitful apparitions, temporary infatuation. Products of a brain swimming in the dark fluid of solitude. That old geezer Calderon de la Barca claims that a man becomes a cruel beast when left to fend for himself, with darkness as his sole companion. Give him a kingdom and he will become a tyrant worthy of being overthrown and forgotten. Nature versus nurture. What am I, Geraldine? Am I a scorned heir, chased from his paradise into a cold dungeon? Condemned to chase a dream that never was and that will never grace my heart? Begging for light in my obscure underground prison? No. NO. I am waking up. I am sending it all to hell itself. Let them burn and I will not even blink. I want you. I want us. Let me in, allow me to be yours. Our time has come.ʺ

ʺ_...ʺ_

ʺForgive me. I will come to see you this evening.ʺ

He hung up before Geraldine had the chance to come up with a coherent sentence. Final stage of burying his pride and personality: completed and filed in the strictly protected area of his memories. He turned around and cast a glance at the little scoundrel on the microwave oven. What a wonderfully evil thing! Its features carved in the lapis lazuli with great care, its pointy hat covering the disheveled mane and its eyes practically glowing. Denzel closed his eyes and smiled; he remembered the first time when he opened the ballads of Ossian, the stories of Celtic folklore, the discovery of the celebration of the solstice and the equinox, the sacred properties of the mighty oak and the origin of the Danube in the old legends of the gods known as Tuatha De Danann, the very same that would later become associated with Fairies. He felt warmth...feelings of being safe and at home. True bliss. He thought of bonfires and Samhain, Goethe and his pantheism, nymphs dancing around waterfalls, old graveyards and monuments.

ʺWell, my impish friend, I guess we are facing the last seconds of my old ways. Any final requests before I give you over to that psychotic child that lives next door and has a convenient tendency to swallow random objects?ʺ

Thud and a flash of light. Denzel frowned and cursed under his breath, his eyes still protected by their lids.

ʺOh, son of a...I am ignoring it. I am in a perfect state of equanimity...oh, hell. Why wonʼt you devils leave me be?!ʺ

His eyes could not control themselves and they opened of their own accord. The figurine had vanished. Denzel blinked. He blinked again. Well, he yelped, too. He grabbed the counter to steady himself, hesitating and resisting the foul fruit of magic. Desperate in his attempt to control the rabid monster that clawed at his heart. Pace by pace, he approached the microwave. A small piece of paper was left as a consolation prize. He reached for it and scanned the elegant handwriting.

_Why, Denzel, thank you for such a cordial reception. The pleasure was all mine, I assure you. Let me express my great sorrow for your loss. Alas, I am incapable of offering a remedy for your current state of mind, and for that fault I can only give you a formal apology. Useless and unwanted. I would have loved to appear in person and finally make your acquaintance, maybe even lift that burden of guilt that torments you. Unfortunately, I had other affairs to regulate and I had found myself with only a few minutes to spare. Your little jest about me being a choking hazard was in poor taste; in other words, splendid. As for my requests, there are several. All of them being in your service. You told your damsel that Fairies no longer represent the core of your existence. I have some homework for you, so no cheating! No Fairies. A veil of obscurity conceals the truth; a herculean task awaits. Can you visualise the events that occured on your fifth birthday? I need you to seize the pattern of all the consecutive anniversaries of your birth. Your next assignment may present itself as inane and ludicrous. Write an essay for me about hobgoblins. Would you classify them as contra-Fairies?_

_Sincerely yours,_

_A.-C. A.-J. A.-C._

* * *

Tendrils of vapour were floating over the scalding liquid, forming elegant abstract shapes, indulging themselves in a parody of a waltz before disappearing. The familiar scent of bergamot unsuccessfully tried to alleviate her ire. She added a few teaspoons of honey and a slice of lemon. Oh, while at it, she could have placed some cyanide; he had certainly deserved to writhe in agony. Anti-Cosmoʼs behaviour had been abysmal at best. Upon his sudden arrival somewhere at half past five in the morning, he had decided to regale the entire castle with an arrogant outburst characteristically found in the dark crevices of every prima donnaʼs imagination. Temper tantrums of unrealistic proportions had not been well received by the staff. A very annoyed group of gargoyles that served as prison guards had been rudely marched back to their post, not to mention the fact that they had to hand over their poker cards, along with their secret stash of beer. Hysteria had reigned supreme.

It pained her to see the person she adored act in such a horrendous fashion. She knew him well enough to recognize the awful symptoms of an approaching scheme that would yet again have a detrimental effect on his health and whatever was left of his positive traits. Her instinct had long ago proven itself as a worthy opponent to his intelligence and cunning. Her simplistic approach to life and a healthy dose of minimalism would always lead her to satisfaction.

She had seen the telltale glint in his eyes, the sinister signs of nascent ambition, greed and ravenous hunger dancing around his soul like harlots. Heavy tomes and files had been zooming through the corridors, few of them hitting Foop in the process, poltergeists slowly making their way to the nearest exit, for fear that their Master had finally abandoned the last vestiges of his sanity. Eyes reduced to a toxic green, his charm and chivalry had rotten away and offered their throne to the somber sobriety. He had summoned his lieutenants and generals to attend an urgent conference in the privacy of his cabinet; when the last of them had arrived, the grand gates sealed themselves shut. Maledictions and enchantments had been cast in order to deter unwanted visitors. The gravity of the situation had manifested itself in the form of an unprecedented anomaly: the presence of her former paramour. Anti-Juandissimo had long ago vowed that he would never come anywhere near Anti-Cosmoʼs abode, but their professional relationship remained unscathed.

Anti-Wanda had been sitting in the kitchen and enjoying the company of mozzarella sandwhiches during the first few hours of the meeting. Protection spells notwithstanding, the combined magic of the assembly had been capable of carving itself into the stone walls. Noxious fumes had appeared out of nowhere and her snack had turned to ashes. It had been enough for her to switch on her lucid self and concentrate her efforts on discovering the purpose of the entire spectacle. Meanwhile, the meeting itself had become a virtual reconstruction of the G_rand Guignol._ Their heated discussion had been the epitome of chaos and outrage, a cacophony of gasps and signs of disapproval. Chairs had been flying out the window well into the late afternoon, which inevitably led to the need to throw dissidents in their stead. Anti-Binky had been causing damage just to provide himself a source of amusement, Anti-Juandissimo was far from amused when he was almost catapulted by Anti-Cupid in the general direction of Anti-Cosmo. Some of them had conspired to create a shower of anvils. Anti-Studwell had stoically endured the nonsense caused by his younger peers and did his best to ignore them by reciting the properties of the hypothalamus in his head.

Consensus: definition unavailable. Rage had been rising like mercury in a thermometer. Somewhere in the middle of the Anti-Tooth Fairyʼs attempt to make Anti-Binkyʼs teeth rot, Anti-Cosmo had decided to put his crew back in their place by placing shards of fear deep in their unsuspecting hearts. Menacing hounds had appeared out of the shadows, their eyes sharing the same emerald glow of their creator, their spectral forms floating around their victims and inducing hallucinations. Vicious vipers descending from the chandelier and preparing themselves for a generous donation of venom. The onyx floor had become a hideous combination of tar and decomposing corpses. Anti-Cosmo had made a discrete signal and the revenants began their task of capturing the horrified guests and holding them in place. Satisfied with the production of the desired effects, Anti-Cosmo had proceeded with his sermon.

He had introduced them to the general rules and gave them instructions to ensure that the provisions of the contract would be efficiently brought to reality. He had congratulated the Anti-Tooth Fairy for becoming the first official Anti-Fairy godmother and handed her the file of her new charge. The rest of the inner circle of his confidants had received orders and tasks that included the evaluation of each Anti-Fairy and their capacity to be paired with a human.

Unfortunately, the awe-inspiring atmosphere had been shifted into a black comedy when the security system alerted them of some wretch trying to break into the room. Perfect timing. High-pitched screaming and sizzling sounds had been a fantastic addition to their evening and they all had a good laugh. Probably a rogue gargoyle eavesdropping, or maybe Foop. Oh, far from the truth.

If we were to connect Anti-Wandaʼs need to explore uncharted waters with the anonymous potential desecrator of Anti-Cosmoʼs private assembly, we would arrive at a disturbing conclusion. And to the main reason why she was currently resisiting the urge to place arsenic in his tea. May evil have mercy on him. She stared at the liquid and hoped that the cup would not start bouncing up and down. It did. A furious expression plastered itself on her usually mild and kind features. The air particles themselves were trembling and shying away, slithering azure rays of energy gathering around her. It was more than obvious that his finest porcelain would soon meet its premature demise.

She refused to believe that he did not deem her fit to act as his confidant. He had never been reluctant to disclose his darkest desires to her, his whispers forever eager to grace her with forbidden lore, his audacious caresses combined with arcane knowledge that would escape his lips. Seduction and intimate encounters had acquired an entirely different dimension with his passionate vows and promises of imprisoning the celestial powers for her, his determination to force Nature itself to worship her. No justification whatsoever for his lack of confidence; none of it could erase the dire fact that he had barely even spoken to her that day. She grabbed the cup and disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke, eager to persuade him that she had more sense than he gave her credit for and that he had no right to hide the details of his current agenda.

Her blood pressure went to forbidden heights when she materialised behind him. All alarms began to howl in her head when she finally corroborated that her malicious husband was indeed concocting a plot without her. Solemn notes never lie; Anti-Cosmoʼs penchant for the dramatic had always manifested through the use of one of the most revered objects in his possession.

True incarnation of unadulterated genius and exquisite mania, shameless and radiating demonic charm, he was lashing out mercilessly at the keyboard of the majestic organ. Twisted and sinful melodies were slowly forcing the entire castle to hum and vibrate, dragging it into the conversation between a deranged man and a resilient instrument. One would easily describe it as a battle for dominance, beauty dancing with deformity, constantly resisting its amorous advances. Jealous thunderclaps could not resist and were quite adamant in their will to present themselves as an essential part of the fugue, lightning serving as a perfect way to accentuate his distorted features and trademark grin. It was a miracle that his shoulders had not yet dislocated from all the frantic movements of his arms.

Anti-Wanda glared daggers at him. She cleared her throat unceremoniously and waited for him to react. The organ would not have it; the heathen mistress continued with her loud roaring and refused to grant the legitimate spouse undisturbed access to the intoxicated husband. It was the perfect opportunuity to apply the methods she would never even dream of using on Foop. It is not every day that we bear witness to such a surreal display of cruelty; Anti-Cosmo had never been dragged off the tabouret by the ear.

ʺAre you daft?! That hurts!ʺ

ʺYou should be happy I ainʼt throwing yer tea in yer face! Yer up to no good and ya didnʼt tell me anything. Weʼre supposed to be in this together!ʺ

ʺBeloved…care to elaborate? And why is that cup approaching my eyes?ʺ

ʺYa big snobby bozo! What in tarnation is goinʼ on under my roof? Why are there traps all over the blazinʼ building?! I almost got fried like a chicken wing on them doors of your working room!ʺ

ʺThat was you?! I gave explicit orders that were supposed to be followed verbatim. Why did the gargoyles allow you to go to the antechamber?! I will have them flogged alive; you could have gotten yourself severely damaged! Is that what you want? You think I donʼt trust you? Woman, I am your slave, bound and condemned to an infinity of servitude. Better dead than despised by your innocent gaze.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cozzie…what happened last night? I told ya so, you know. Yer mean when yer upset.ʺ

ʺBefore I commence with the irksome details, I would like to apologize for my atrocious lack of manners. I should have come to you immediately and respected your position in this world. Mother is right when she says that I am the replica of my sire; unjust and cold.ʺ

ʺNah, yer a marshmallow with a monocle and a little bowler hat.ʺ

ʺA minute of silence for the death of my pride.ʺ

ʺ…ʺ

ʺMuch obliged, dear. Now, we have some serious problems waiting for us around the corner. Dolores-Day is no longer living.ʺ

ʺW-what?! Tarnation, Anti-Blonda, does she… did she feel it?ʺ

ʺHeavily sedated. January the 12th had triggered a domino effect. Anti-Studwell had administered a large dose of Anti-Blondaʼs analgetics that day, rendering her completely numb to pain. Simultaneously, Dolores-Day had exhaled her final breath. You know very well that your sister serves as an indicator of death in Aldenʼs line of descendants. If she does not register it, neither do we. Dolores-Day has been gone for weeks.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cozzie! Our darlinʼ nephew probably wants someone with him!ʺ

ʺI received a Hex Message from Anti-Studwell as I was preparing for departure from Fairy World. They had endeavoured to rehabilitate her through the use of placebo capsules last night, considering the fact that she had been on potent medication for the past few months. Her first reaction was categorized as a regular detoxification fever. However, her condition began to worsen…wailing sounds of a banshee that mourns the loss of her other half. She…she tried to scratch her face off…another bit of her magic disappeared with Dolores-Day.ʺ

ʺDonʼt…ʺ

ʺI went straight to the hospital and I held her until four in the morning. They returned to her former treatment…ʺ

ʺMy sis.ʺ

ʺWhich brings us to the main issue. Something went loose in Denzelʼs fragile spirit. For evilʼs sacred name, the Fairies had injected exorbitant amounts of forgeticine in his organism and permanently destroyed his physical body at the tender age of ten. I had not been familiar with the circumstances of his current predicament and state of mind, but my hunch was confirmed when I arrived at his house later on. Faith no longer exists in him. He holds nothing but despair. Do you understand?ʺ

ʺGoodness gracious.ʺ

ʺI still find it mad to believe how the Saturnian energies worked in our favour. Do you know what this means, my dark maiden?ʺ

ʺFer the first time, I do. And I think Iʼm gonna need a glass of schnapps.ʺ

ʺDenzel no longer believes in Fairies! My prayers and hopes finally answered. Do you know what the best part is? I am the only one that figured it out the very moment Jorgen told me about the magical interdiction disappearing from his core.ʺ

ʺI thought you were saving the kittens with Jorgen.ʺ

ʺWe can call it that way. I saved one kitten, and more will come. The entire realm will be full of kittens! An army of powerful evil kittens.ʺ

ʺI think yer losing yer possums.ʺ

ʺDo you see?! Dolores-Day died, Denzel stopped believing in Fairies as a result, that fraction of a second was enough to drain the Big Wand to the point of aridity. The interdiction that impedes the Fairies from reproduction had lifted temporarily and granted freedom. Guess what else lifted?ʺ

ʺI really need that glass of schnapps.ʺ

ʺThey were able to bond with…ʺ

ʺNo! Not again, never, NOT AFTER WHAT HAPPENNED TO US!ʺ

ʺ…ʺ

ʺDo you see my sister? Are ya that stupid? Alden is buried alive. Anti-Binky no longer tells up from down, Anti-Tooth Fairy still talks to herself, are ya mad?! What did you do?ʺ

ʺI…wait a moment. Did you just frighten me? I am impressed.ʺ

ʺI am not watchinʼ children die again. I am not scratchinʼ at prison bars anymore. Where are all the adult witches? Why didnʼt they come to see us when we escaped? They hate us. They think we betrayed them.ʺ

ʺDarling, your accent. You are returning back to your ancient self.ʺ

ʺI am the Anti-Fairy of mercy and tenderness, not the mind. I sense, I donʼt think. I bring bad luck to cruel ones. I target them on our Friday. I love, that is what my mission is.ʺ

ʺAnti-Wanda, upon the constellation of Scorpio and the star of Antares, Jorgen will pay. He will drown in his own blood, consumed by the agony of the helpless, I will rip his eyes out and force him to swallow them, I will unleash the underground demons on Fairies, I will break their minds and enslave all that is.ʺ

ʺYer cute. Yer just tryinʼ to make me feel better.ʺ

She felt him grab the cup from her hand and gasped when he threw it in an unknown direction, the porcelain letting out its death cry and shattering on the floor. He crushed his lips to hers and pulled her against his form, his hands roaming, teasing and fondling, inviting her into his trap, weaving a web of devilish intentions. She tore at his sapphire broach and scarf, her nails scratching his chest, her fire destroying his ice, playing with his patience as if it were an innocuous toy. She failed to seize the fact that he had teleported them to their chamber, the black silk of the soft bed beneath her back irrelevant and unworthy of second thought. She flipped him over and ended on top.

ʺI win!ʺ

ʺSuch a sweet surrender; what awaits me?ʺ

ʺSomethinʼ terrible.ʺ

ʺYes?ʺ

ʺYouʼll be doinʼ the dishes forever!ʺ

ʺCruel woman. My turn!ʺ

Her merry laughter echoed throughout the room as he rolled them over. He began a journey of soft kisses from her mouth, over her collarbone, and to her chest.

ʺI had something far more enticing planned. I shall punish you with a thousand kisses, torture you with sinful caresses and evil embraces, I will make you scream.ʺ

ʺCan I ask you somethinʼ?ʺ

ʺYes.ʺ

ʺYa didnʼt tell me all that happened in Fairy World.ʺ

ʺGodchildren, my love. We are allowed to have those wonderful creatures and we can shape their minds however we wish.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cozzie!ʺ

ʺThe Fairy Council has no idea about the true nature of the arrangement. They think that Jorgen is creating a test for us in the field of godparenting. In fact, we are keeping our little darlings for an eternity. Witches, beloved, we can turn them into witches. Our magical core bound to their souls, our energy flowing freely and taking their hearts. They will be completely under our influence. Ours forever. There is more, of course. If a Fairy sees a child practice magic, they wonʼt be able to alert the authorities. The words will choke in their throat. The same applies to Fairy godchildren. And, when they lose their Fairies, they will fall in our hands. Jorgen was desperate to save his lad.ʺ

ʺIʼm gonna get a human child?ʺ

ʺAs much as possible.ʺ

ʺOh, how precious. Lilʼ darlinʼ kids running all over the place and hiding yer monocle.ʺ

ʺNot on my watch. Where were we, my black flower?ʺ

Their tender erotic moment was rudely interrupted by a certain little devil that barged in the room. Foop was carrying an enormous pile of books, his vision obscured.

ʺMOTHER! For once I find myself in dire need of your undivided attention and assistance and you make yourself scarce! Miss Powers is abusing her position and making me write an essay about the joy and serenity of motherly love! Heresy and outrage! Fortunately, I am sharing my living space with your smothering emotions. I need your advice.ʺ

He moved his head to the left and almost fainted when he beheld his parents in such a compromising position.

ʺOh, that is just appalling. You two make Marquis de Sade look like an impotent friar. Father, hand her over. My education is far more important than your libido.ʺ

ʺFoop, you have three seconds to get out of the room before I blast you to the other corner of the galaxy.ʺ

* * *

Protagonists: a tall adolescent female with cruel crystal eyes and a pubescent lad with shoulder length messy brown hair. Both engrossed in their schoolwork, frowning and determined not to fall asleep. The girl sat on the edge of the bed and balanced two heavy books in her hand. Her gaze averted to the boy sitting at the desk and she started to chew on her black highlighter. Trixie had pulled her hair up in a chignon and covered it with a gray hat. Her matching gray sweater and jeans a perfect combination for her charade. It was difficult to grasp her pathological need to lie about her true personality, deception and fabrications conspiring to lead her to perdition. She pulled her legs up and threw an eraser in Timmyʼs direction. All she got was an irritated groan; boredom was descending upon her like a disease.

ʺSay something amusing.ʺ

ʺSomething amusing.ʺ

ʺIʼm serious.ʺ

ʺAha.ʺ

ʺOh, come on. I wanted to discuss the ambiguous nature of vigilantes in comics.ʺ

ʺTrixie, we have an exam tomorrow. Weʼll be living like vagabonds if Crocker decides to fail us.ʺ

ʺWhy not? Freedom, no responsibility, perfect resignation.ʺ

ʺNo hair salons.ʺ

ʺWeʼll think of a solution.ʺ

ʺNo comics. There go our essential supplies for a healthy life.ʺ

ʺSarcasm is the lowest form of wit.ʺ

ʺOnly to those who canʼt stand it.ʺ

ʺMy, my, when did you become such a well of wisdom?ʺ

ʺI lead a double life.ʺ

ʺJoin the club, Timster. I make Batman look like Robin.ʺ

ʺI suggest you return to question number five. We never get that 18th century crap right. What exactly do we need to know about the Enlightenment?ʺ

ʺKnowing Crocker, we need to know the basics of philosophy, litterature and politics. Just keep on writing about Rousseauʼs pre-romanticism and call it a night.ʺ

ʺWhen do you have to leave?ʺ

ʺMother hasnʼt left her country club for days. She gets a bit tipsy after a few glasses of brandy and she stays in her rented quarters. Father is stuck in a parallel dimension full of frigid business nonsense. I guess Iʼll stay here. I am lucky to have a normal friend I can actually rely on. Who needs that sappy sweetness? That is what girl friends are for. You are irreplaceable to me.ʺ

Timmy failed to conceal the odious blush that invaded his cheeks without even asking his permission. His inner voice went mute and his stomach was packing its bags and leaving on the next bus. He placed his hand on his frantic heart. He detached himself from his immediate reality and mentally slapped his emotional demons into submission. Mistakes were forbidden.

ʺTimster, you should see those old hags Mother socialises with. All that application of rouge and powder…they almost look like cheap ladies of the night. Fake, faux, false. And I am just like them. I am a shell without a pearl. I am not even a shell…a barnacle, I guess. I cling to those that have no choice but to accept their divine punishment. I am addicted to approval. Goodness, if I end up like my mother…drunk in a country club and faking a British accent.ʺ

Indeed, one could easily detect an unhealthy concentration of angst and advanced self-loathing in the atmosphere; same object, different subject. Such things tend to be quite contagious in early adolescence. Experiments conducted in a safe environment bring forth dull conclusions. Fortunately, Timothy Turner was an expert at introducing chaos and mayhem into the lives of those around him. He grinned as an idea formed in his thoughts.

ʺWho says anything about faking? Watch and learn from the pro.ʺ

ʺUm, what do you mean?ʺ

ʺThrow me that highlighter.ʺ

She complied with his strange request and tilted her head in confusion. Her jaw dropped when she saw him draw a black circle around his right eye. He slicked his hair back and straightened his shirt. Using a ruler as an impromptu cane, he began prancing around the room like a mindless idiot.

ʺOh, my, what are you doing?! Geesh, youʼre insane.ʺ

She almost fell on her rear when she heard his accent.

ʺNow, now, Patricia, ladies do not act that way! Shoulders straight, come on! We do not need hunchbacks at our fancy club. What are you laughing at? Only savages do that! Oh, the Queen may drop by, you know…old girl just keeps on going and going since the Edwardian era…sad, sad. Oh, and what about that outfit? Did Mary Stuart complain when they ripped it off her corpse? Sheʼs been haunting my bathroom lately so I gave her your address. Hope you donʼt mind, deary. All is fair in country clubs and fashion. Stop, laughing, Patricia, you will create wrinkles in your face!ʺ

ʺI canʼt breathe! Stop using my full name, _Timothy_.ʺ

ʺIgnorrrrramus! We do not need nicknames at the country club! You need to have at least four names, each of them having over twenty letters. Stop laughing!ʺ

ʺWhere did you learn to act like that?ʺ

ʺI sorta have a crazy British uncle. Comes by from time to time and wrecks the place.ʺ

ʺLucky you.ʺ

ʺLuck is not his area. Frosted scones are.ʺ

The pair resumed their game, laughing merrily and teasing with acerbic remarks. Both under the careful watch of his godparents. They had assumed a miniature size and were floating over the shelf. Cosmo was smirking and nudging his wife in the ribs. Wanda was doing her best to avoid his comments. And failing miserably.

ʺThat boy will do anything to score a date. Oh, he is all grown up!ʺ

ʺUsing our enemy as a means to score a date is far from mature behaviour. I canʼt believe he is doing this.ʺ

ʺExcuse me, but you heard the man: watch and learn. They are playing, let them. I ran you over with a car when we fell in love, remember? Timmy is too young to drive and Trixieʼs face looks better when not covered with bits of asphalt!ʺ

ʺI need my medicine; what are you doing?ʺ

ʺMaking a list of celebrities. You think heʼll be able to do a believable Betty White?ʺ

ʺFive bucks he wonʼt.ʺ

ʺYouʼre on, babe.ʺ

* * *

He lifted up the collar of his old jacket as he walked down the trailer park, secretly wishing he could break the neck of the sociopath that had seen it fit to christen it with the abominable name of _Happy Trails._ Cruel mockery worthy of undistilled contempt. The cold wind was burning his face and his blonde hair was dancing around his head. He had been feeding a small family of cats that lived in an abandoned cottage several dozen meters away from his home. He had had to procure some warm blankets for them and make sure that there were no cracks in the windows; the kittens had rewarded him with their low purrs. Poverty had no real effect on him, destitution and frugality impotent in front of his warm and generous spirit. Two strong pillars stood as invisible guardians on either side of his mind and form, one representing the oceans of affection he held for all living creatures, the other his moral compass that despised fanatics and all forms of apathy. Naiveté was his primary fault. Soaring pride coupled with hidden shame.

He searched his pockets for the key and entered his humble living quarters. Chester had gone through hell and back just to make the place livable. A group of moths had decided to organize a party in the wardrobe, which led to the death of most of his pullovers. Sighing, he opened the cupboard beneath the sink and extracted a cardboard box full of yarn and thread. Patching up ancient pieces of cloth had become a routine for him in the late afternoon. The plastic plates were washed and stored away in foil for preservation, the trash was thrown out and there was not a single particle of dust on the table. He took his jacket off and threw it on the bed. Bucky had finally bought decent furniture for them to sit on.

Chester placed the box on the table and went rummaging through the meager pile of salvageable clothes.

Well, at least they had been worth saving earlier that day.

ʺFor crying out...what the heck are those monsters made of?! Itʼs freaking Resident Evil in here!ʺ

He held up a partially disintegrated sweater as if to convey his message; no amount of thread available to restore its former use. He discarded it and leaned his head on the table. New clothes were the only reasonable option and he had no intention of torturing himself with a lost cause. The urge to start banging his head against the corner of the sink was tempting. Several minutes later, he shot a murderous glare at the far end of the room. A small spider was nestled in its silky web and it gave away an air of complete indifference to its obligations. Chester almost imagined it selling out tickets to unwelcome insects.

ʺYou. Are. Completely. Useless.ʺ

The events that followed had certainly not been planned in Chesterʼs schedule. A gruff voice with a Cockney accent was eager to defend itself from the heinous accusation.

ʺDonʼt get your knickers in a twist, Cheshire. Thereʼs enough misery in ʼere to power Chicago for decades. Youʼre lucky I ainʼt gonna press charges for giving me bloody gastritis with all this saccharine woe-is-me self-righteous nonsense and that weak excuse for an emotion. Come on, give your true anger...let it drip like the darkest chocolate squeezed right out of your beating red heart, twisting and burning poison so delectably bitter and creamy, yesss...pure essence of hatred...ʺ

As the voice continued, it gradually became unusually smooth and tender, deep and mesmerizing. The accent disappeared entirely and it was nigh impossible to identify it as the same person. Chester just stared at the spider. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords went on a strike. The arachnid disappeared in a cloud of dark blue smoke. Chester had recovered the use of his voice and he springed to get his baseball bat to use as a weapon if necessary.

ʺI am armed!ʺ

ʺBad little bat, you wound me. Is that the way to treat your dear old godfather?ʺ

ʺGodfather? I am pretty sure that Dad didnʼt summon demons during my early childhood to play house.ʺ

ʺYour papa canʼt even summon the police to arrest that trash that keeps on placing bombs in your mailbox.ʺ

ʺCoward! Why donʼt say that to my face? Where are you hiding?ʺ

ʺLook up, Cheshire.ʺ

Chester tried to sort his scattered thoughts, drops of perspiration falling down his cheek, his lungs refusing the air he imposed on them. His eyes shot up and he found himself facing a pair of jovial rubies. Their owner was holding a golden chalice and thoroughly enjoying its contents. Inebriated and detached from terrestrial cares, the god waved his wand and transformed the decor of the trailer into a den fit for a carefree hedonist. He landed on a large cushion and popped his joints. Chester had no idea what to make of the entity that had chosen to haunt him.

ʺWhat in the name of street chocolate are you?!

ʺNo, no, love. What are you? The Bad Bat and the Black Cheshire Cat, born on a dirty mat, despised by many a rich brat, while they grew fat, for dinner you only had a rat, insulted by every single prat, your spirit never went flat, it refused to give a drat, even when laughed at.ʺ

Scarlet eyes glowing with sulphurous lust, famished and prepared to gorge themselves with the tender flesh of fear. The creature gulped down the liquid from the sumptuous chalice and snuggled up to a plush bear it had conjured out of thin air. Chester had arrived to the conclusion that the being was suffering from a severe form of schizophrenia. Its appearance did not differ much from its mental state. Impeccable upper part of a black tuxedo and a perfectly tied bow tie combined with a diaper. Its skin sharing the same hue with the depths of a haunted ocean, black hair with a bang that pointed upwards like a scythe, sinewy bat wings hanging lazily from its back. Chester threw his weapon aside and started to run for his life. An invisible pair of arms lifted him up in the air. He screamed out every curse word he knew.

ʺCome on, Cheshire...you can do better than that. My stomach is empty and I could use some flambéed anxiety...dipped in the marinade of envy, served with succulent spite, greed placed as filling in Belgian delights, oh, how beautiful...ʺ

ʺGoodness, I am never touching sugar again. I must be losing my mind.ʺ

ʺHappens. Better off without it. It hinders the senses.ʺ

ʺWho are you?ʺ

ʺI belong to the exalted offspring of the dreadful Styx, the honourable deity of the Underworld river, upon her name the gods swear their official oaths, the sacred name of hatred. Kratos and Bia my siblings and Eris my collaborator. I am the fuel that powers human hearts, their ugliest secrets, their madness, I am the raw and festering meat of unrequited affection, I am euphoria, I am passion unlimited, envy married to ambition. I am zeal. Therefore, my name is Zelos. But, since I gotta keep a low profile these days, they call me the Anti-Cupid…dumb, innit?ʺ

ʺDumbest thing on this side of Dimmsdale.ʺ

ʺI like you, kid.ʺ

ʺWhy Anti-Cupid? Your description kinda sounds like what Cupid could be.ʺ

ʺThou shalt not compare me with that foul caffeine addict! I am reality! Eros is a master of deception and confusion, he throws sugar and pink hearts wrapped in disgusting love notes and pretty pink pompous posh polished plastic potpourri, shallow sighs and gasps of virgins and lovesick morons, artificial, no depth, no nothing…ya wanna know what emotions really are? Love is a product of an undestined stillbirth, soaked in blood and misery, a rabid creature prepared to fight for life, love is when you are ready to cut your own organ out to save the other, love is when you tolerate insults and ridicule from those surrounding you to protect the person you crave, love is gore and death and pain. Are Romeo and Juliet famous for being happy? Are Tristan and Iseult enjoying the cute birds? Was my cousin Orpheus blessed with the warm naked body of Euridice?ʺ

ʺOkay, I get it. Geez, is there anyone that can control you? You are creeping the living daylights out of me.ʺ

As if on cue, Chester registered another male voice behind him. He felt himself being placed down and freed from Anti-Cupidʼs trap. He turned around to see a floating dark figure that frightened him even more than Anti-Cupid. It surprised him that the strange demons were the same size as he. The voice was like ice, echoing and imperious, almost like that of a very dark and menacing Crocker. There were hints of an accent long forgotten and chased away by incessant practice and work.

ʺAbomination! Scandalous and shameful. I leave you with the child for five minutes and you turn the house into a brothel! His father may come any second!ʺ

ʺGrumpy Bear! How nice of you to come.ʺ

ʺI told you not to call me that if you value dear life. Donʼt you dare approach me!ʺ

Chester blinked in surprise when he saw Anti-Cupid zoom over to the other creature. Despite all of its protests, Anti-Cupid managed to hug him, little blue hearts dancing around his head.

ʺGet off me before I rip your arms out of their sockets and beat you to a pulp with them. I hate you! Deal with it.ʺ

ʺAwww, I hate you, too!ʺ

It was difficult to find the right words to describe him. He had the appearance of a a very strict and conservative Spaniard, issued from the old noblesse of yore. Violet eyes scanning the area, questioning, filing everything, missing nothing, stopping on Chester. Long black hair tied back in a ponytail, a goatee on his chin, his ears pointed and pearly white fangs very close to ripping something apart. His black trench coat covering most of his body, a turtleneck sweater visible. The creature grinned and made a slight nod.

ʺChester…the broken mirror reflecting hideous human cruelty. Sweet boy, you must be devastated. Such wonders you possess. Beauty of character and an infinity of compassion, the treasures I value and cherish. You remind me of someone dear to me. Not you, Zelos. Oh, a gift from the heavens. My godchild and witchling, you have no idea how happy you make my old eyes.ʺ

ʺUh, youʼre welcome.ʺ

ʺI must warn you though. Your previous mistakes confirm the ancient rule. Good intentions lead to bad deeds. I will have to take care of your gullible nature.ʺ

ʺWhat is your name?ʺ

ʺFirst general and second in command to Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Fairy of righteous fury, specialised strategist and professional assassin Anti-Juandissimo Anti-Magnifico.ʺ

ʺYou kill people?ʺ

ʺThose who deserve it. And where I come from, a lot of them do.ʺ

ʺOkay, righteous fury, makes sense. This was adorable, but I really have to wake up. I need to return to sewing and prepare something for Dad. He is so tired in the evenings. I wish I could help him, but housework is all that is in my power.ʺ

ʺAlready granted. You can help him. You do.ʺ

ʺYeah, Cheshire…here is my nausea to speak for it.ʺ

ʺI guess you are both cute in your psychotic way. Too bad it is a dream.ʺ

ʺSee the onyx stars on our wands?ʺ

ʺYeah.ʺ

ʺThey exist to serve you.ʺ

ʺOh, I really donʼt think that there is any need.ʺ

Anti-Juandissimo came over to Chester and conjured a sphere of ethereal blue rays. The child stared at it full of wonder.

ʺI believe you lost this.ʺ

ʺHuh?ʺ

ʺMemories.ʺ

Ice splitting his consciousness, carving the hymn of sadness and betrayal in his mind, brief happiness with Norm, random voices and images, Timmy and his godparents, anger and spite, triumph over perfidy, banishment of the genie that brought sorrow. Suppressed fear, disappointment, pride, love, oh, such quantities…

ʺStop! It burns! IT BURNS! Fairies…real…you, sweet mother, you are really here!ʺ

ʺCheshire, I think I am gonna puke. Your emotions are like candy with caustic soda.ʺ

ʺNobody is going anywhere! I want an explanation! Where are all of you coming from? First Norm, then Timmy and that weird whirlpool, now this? No. Been there, done that, never going through it again! I was betrayed by one creature, who can tell if you two wonʼt do something like that? No thanks, I am happy with what I have. I have a sick father that needs me. No magic. Thank you, goodbye. Close the window behind you.ʺ

ʺEr, no can do, Cheshire. This is sort of a permanent thing. See, Grumpy Bear and me, weʼre a package deal. He is your Anti-Fairy, he grants wishes, and in the future he will be a familiar when you start to, er, show proficiency in throwing fire bolts or things of a similar nature. You can go scream it to the entire country, you will not lose him. He is the opposite of Fairies. I am a god, I give gifts, completely at my leisure. I too am your godparent, but also a patron. So, let us come to the abridged version and say that we are your new parents. Hug?ʺ

The key turned in the lock and the door opened. The trio stared at the exhausted silhouette that entered, holding the bag on its head and keeping the wind from blowing it away. Limping and dragging the remains of the mailbox behind him. He sauntered to the nearest chair and let his weak body fall down with a loud thud. Completely ignoring the fact that the trailer looked like a reconstruction of a Venetian palace and that there were two creatures floating in the room. He coughed a few times and groaned. He coughed again. And again. Chester felt his heart contract.

ʺSon, did you do something different today? Something looks strange.ʺ

ʺNah, the usual. Just sit down and warm yourself up. Give me that, why did you bring it in? I will take it back outside. Just stay, alright? For me.ʺ

Chester grabbed his godparents by the bow tie and collar respectively and marched outside, containing his tears and feeling nothing but rage.

ʺChester?ʺ

ʺAlright, you two, we need to set down some ground rules, here. Are you really staying? Really gonna be here with me? Whatever I do, however I beg you to leave?ʺ

ʺKid, we will bore the hell out of you with our delightful presence.ʺ

ʺI have a wish. It may seem strange, reckless and idiotic, but damn, it goes well with all of this.ʺ

Indeed it was. In fact, it reached the category of ludicrous behaviour. And Anti-Juandissimo could not believe what his godson was telling him. Anti-Cupid prepared a bag just in case. There was something about his godson and his emotions that did not do well to his palate and digestion. All the finest fibres of negative emotions drenched in pure love and sentiments of anger polluted by forgiveness. The next scene made him ill. Chester had released such a venomous combination of extreme sadness combined with altruism that he found himself writhing and gulping down wine like a madman. Thirty minutes later, Timmy was shocked to find that a partially unconscious Anti-Cupid had materialised in his bathroom, clutching his stomach and crying in pain.

ʺTurner, get out! Canʼt you have the common decency to give me some privacy?!ʺ

ʺWhat the…?ʺ

He was practically thrown out and the door slammed in front of him. He stood in the hallway, his hair still wet and a portable dryer in his hand. Confused and slightly unnerved, he made no sudden gestures and tried to repeat to himself that he should definitely consider a change of address. Preternatural creatures had practically turned the place into a hotel and train station. Foop coming and going as if he had taken permanent lodging there, Jorgen dropping a nuclear explosion or ten every day, aliens stealing the trash. He should start charging them. Sobs coming from the end of the hallway. Timmy reached for the switch and the light showed him a curled up child rocking back and forth like there was no tomorrow. An Anti-Fairy comforting it and whispering gently. Timmy gasped when he recognized it as Anti-Juandissimo.

ʺChester?! What is this?ʺ

ʺI have to tell you something.ʺ

ʺNo shit.ʺ

ʺI did something stupid! Oh, my goodness, what will become of us now?!ʺ

Meanwhile, Wanda was preparing her son for the night in their small castle. Cosmo was concentrating on playing a game of patience.

ʺThis is not even natural! I can cheat on myself whenever I want.ʺ

ʺI will not comment that.ʺ

ʺBut, look! Why does the ace go first in the upper corner? We have the king, the queen, the jack…ʺ

ʺGet up and help me if you are bored.ʺ

ʺYou have a Hex Message. From Jorgen.ʺ

ʺWell, open it.ʺ

ʺNo way, Jose, last time I opened something from that maniac, my head ended up on Sumatra.ʺ

ʺFor crying out, give me that! What could be so important at this late hour of…oh, my goodness.ʺ

ʺYeah, your head is still in place.ʺ

Both of them completely oblivious to the droll situation in the hallway. Timmy, Chester and Anti-Juandissimo were sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom door. The somber and grim assassin rubbing the bridge of his nose and muttering in his maternal tongue, Chester munching on a bar of chocolate and Timmy handing him fresh tissues. There were several things bothering Timmy. One, the fact that Anti-Cupid was making such sounds that made him seriously worried abot the toilet. Two, the incredible truth that Anti-Fairies were granted permission to have godchildren. Three, the fact that Chester was one of them. Four, he could not comprehend the fact that his best friend had wished for something that practically rendered him an orphan. Bucky McBadbat had been magically transported into a different town, a completely new identity and appearance. All of his history gone.

ʺDo you have any idea how awkward this is gonna be when Cosmo and Wanda find out?ʺ

ʺHmmm.ʺ

ʺBreathe. I am not gonna hit you. Geez, what were you looking for? Your fatherʼs health and happiness? Where are you going to stay, now?ʺ

ʺTurner, pardon me for interrupting your rude harassment of my son, but he is coming with me to Anti-Fairy World. He will be living in my half of the mansion. Zelos has a horrible habit of throwing inappropriate parties that involve debauchery.ʺ

ʺI am not talking to you. ʺ

ʺYou will have to. I will be with him at school, here, and wherever he decides to go. I will always find him. You should respect his decision. What you have with Anti-Cosmo is none of my business. Chester is neutral in this.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cosmo is your boss! You want us to ignore the fact that the lackeys of our nemesis are in the house and clogging the pipes?ʺ

ʺLackey? Turner, show respect. I have murdered for lesser insults.ʺ

ʺThat is my point.ʺ

ʺAm I the opposite of that adulterer that is trying to take away your godparents? The one that has been conspiring with that morally rotten rich piece of scum?ʺ

ʺWell, yeah.ʺ

ʺAnd if Chester and I were paired together based on our character, would it not mean that we are the opposite of Remy and Juandissimo? Their mirror reflections?ʺ

ʺYes.ʺ

ʺThank you. Now get over your selfish behaviour and try thinking about others, for a change.ʺ

ʺ_Will you two shut up and let me die alone?!ʺ_

ʺWhat is he doing in there?ʺ

ʺDo you want an answer from me or him?ʺ

ʺJust keep it down. Vicky is babysitting tonight and sleeping in the other room. If she hears us, not even Anti-Cosmo will save our hide.ʺ

Life and fate had an interesting way of summoning the worst possible avenue. A frantic Wanda appeared with a frightened Cosmo. He managed to utter a few words in a broken voice.

ʺTimmy, the Antis can have godkids, quick, pack up your toothbrush and letʼs blow this joint before Anti-me comes and stirs hell up! Oh, dear light, please tell me that that is Juandissimo in his Halloween costume.ʺ

ʺExcuse me?ʺ

ʺGuys, lower your voices. Vicky is gonna kill us several times.ʺ

ʺ_Why is there a live audience out there?!_ʺ

ʺTWERP!ʺ

ʺOh, great. Now what, you morons? Cosmo?ʺ

ʺQuick, we all have to hide in the bathroom!ʺ

ʺ_No!ʺ_

ʺWanda, they are everywhere!ʺ

ʺThis is beyond description! All of you, get out of here! I will have no Anti-Fairies under my nose! What have you done with Chester?! Come to think of it, why is Jorgen not coming to erase his memories?ʺ

ʺCrazy hag, stop yelling in front of the children! I have been here for only a few minutes and it seems that Cosmo has more sense than you will ever have! Chester is a godchild. Do you not see him? He just gave up his family just to allow his father to have a life. Must you insult the only thing he has left? What kind of a mother are you, you shrew? You really are the opposite of Anti-Wanda, there is not a trace of love in you. ʺ

Timmy and Chester locked eyes when they heard the door of the bedroom open. Vicky would not hesitate to blow the universe to kingdom come. Time was failing them and it was obvious that the vile teenager would cause irreparable damage. A thought formed in Timmyʼs head and he grinned to Chester. His best friend grinned back and took his hand.

ʺCombined wish?ʺ

ʺNaturally.ʺ

ʺLet hell come.ʺ

ʺWe will not let it leave.ʺ

ʺFairies and Anti-Fairies.ʺ

ʺSide by side.ʺ

* * *

Regular exposure to preternatural creatures and a fair amount of apocalyptic tragicomedies were supposed to prepare him for the upcoming atrocities of life and the awful burden of responsibility. Mysteries of the cosmos had been unveiling themselves before his eyes on a regular basis, revealing secrets and knowledge few mortals had reached. Only one question remained unanswered. A household of three capable of producing five full bags of garbage. Daily. Now, something was definitely rotten in Denmark.

Clouds were gathering and announcing the approaching tempest, the wind blowing somewhere around seventy kilometers per hour, scattering bits and pieces of various particles that lay on the street, branches and an occasional journal. Rolling up his sleeves, Timmy grabbed the largest plastic bag and began the ridiculous task of forcing it into the container. The bag had other ideas. Loaded as it was, a small tear appeared that threatened to enlargen itself and spill the contents. Timmy noticed it on time and applied extra force to shove it in before it had the chance to create an awkward mess. Panting and flexing his muscles, he cast a glance at his surroundings; the night would not go without a storm. Chester was staying over, Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo in tow, and Cosmo would probably be daring them to talk to his mother on the phone for a full ten seconds without experiencing a seizure. Wanda and Anti-Juandissimo had already gotten their nervous ticks synchronized at the very mention of such ridiculous ideas. Anti-Cupid was phlegmatic enough to doze off and concentrate on the colour and texture of his white wine. As long as Vicky was providing him with rich amounts of anger and fury, he would be relaxed and content.

He reached for the smaller bags and threw them in the container, sighing in relief. Lightning bolts served as a convenient source of light, transforming the black sky into a breathtaking combination of light grey and indigo. The sweet scent of ozone a harbinger of rain. He shoved his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the spectacle for a few moments. Something incongrous captured his eye. Scintillating emeralds staring at him. The black feline slowly approached, waving its puffy tail and completely indifferent to the chaos around it, as if it did not merit its attention. Strict and elegant, apathetic to the core. It sat in front of Timmy and gave its tail another wave. For a few moments they just stared at each other. Its eyes were scrutinizing him with such zest, so fixed and contemplative. Timmy smirked.

ʺGoing senile, Ace? Youʼre on the wrong address.ʺ

No reaction whatsoever. The cat lifted up a paw and indulged itself in its evening bath, licking it thoroughly. Timmy felt like a complete idiot. The aggressive wind finally made it get up and run down the street. He shrugged his shoulders.

ʺMy mistake.ʺ

ʺ_Tua maxima culpa, _Timothy.ʺ

Son of a gun, he should have let Dad take out the trash. Well, there were several options. One, he could scream bloody murder and alarm the entire house of danger; and probably get himself massacred in the whole process. The second solution that had presented itself involved the application of false bravado and an idiotic attempt at heroism. Not really the ideal choice. Especially when one finds himself alone at night in the company of a psychopath. Third, well, he didnʼt have much time to come up with something useful. The fact that Anti-Cosmo had grabbed a fistful of his hair from behind and pressed the sharp onyx star on his throat during his contemplation of the second option had proven itself to be quite distracting.

ʺLetʼs take a little walk, shall we?ʺ

ʺLetʼs not and say we did.ʺ

ʺYou really do have the cognitive capacities of an immature toddler; I suggest you start walking. I donʼt want Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo to see me.ʺ

ʺOh, yeah, that would be horrible. Sorry for the inconvenience. I am not familiar with the whole hostage protocol.ʺ

ʺWhere do your suicidal tendencies stem from? Your pathetic remarks are a nuisance at best. The damage will reflect itself on your account.ʺ

ʺCanʼt this wait? The guys are really having fun upstairs and I am not in the mood for this cliché.ʺ

ʺTimothy, I am placing my reputation on the guillotine with this. I made a solemn oath to Anti-Juandissimo that I would refrain from operating in the vicinity of his godchild. I will not let anyone contest my authority because of your inability to do as you are told. Now, be a good little boy and follow my orders.ʺ

ʺAce, Iʼll make you a deal. We pretend this never happened, I donʼt say anything to Anti-Juandissimo, Iʼm not gonna tell my godparents and we can continue our talk some other day when Chester is not around. No excuses, no strings attached. Now let me go.ʺ

ʺDo my senses deceive me? Little Timothy Tiberius dictating the terms and conditions to the sovereign of all that is dark and malicious? Interesting. Have it your way, nephew dearest.ʺ

ʺSay what?ʺ

ʺRun along, shoo, youʼll contract a cold in this wind.ʺ

ʺOk, now you are really scaring me.ʺ

Timmy felt his hair being released and he recoiled from the preternatural creature of questionable mental sanity. Anti-Cosmo was floating with his legs crossed and his hands folded over his chest, a bored expression firmly plastered and adjusted. The lad made a wary pace in the opposite direction, his eyes reluctant to lose sight of the potentially dangerous wand. The Anti-Fairy chuckled and took off his monocle to polish it.

ʺYou are making progress, Timothy. It has been a while. I find myself incapable of grasping the concept of you reaching your teenage years. Where is that little golden hero that used to amuse me?ʺ

ʺHe grew a brain. Do I have your word that you will respect our agreement?ʺ

ʺI see my influence and efforts are functioning.ʺ

ʺAce, focus.ʺ

ʺI hereby declare that your prior statement regarding our conversation shall bear henceforth the significance of a binding magical oral contract, entered into without coercion and fully accepted. There, child.ʺ

Timmy sighed and directed himself to the safety of his lawn.

ʺTimothy?ʺ

ʺGoodness, go away.ʺ

ʺMind your step.ʺ

His heart stopped. He looked down and saw a circle of shadows reaching from the ground. Incapable of controlling his ire, he lashed out with impunity.

ʺYou snake unworthy of oxygen! What is this?ʺ

ʺOur agreement. We continue our conversation another day when Anti-Juandissimoʼs godchild is not in our proximity. Easily arranged, I am taking us to a different time zone.ʺ

ʺIʼll…ʺ

ʺNot a word to Anti-Juandissimo or your godparents.ʺ

ʺBut…ʺ

ʺNo excuses, no strings attached.ʺ

ʺBut…ʺ

ʺWhen you come back, we pretend this never happened.ʺ

ʺNo.ʺ

ʺIt was your idea. You made me enforce it.ʺ

ʺHow…damn it!ʺ

ʺLoopholes.ʺ

A claw grabbed him by the leg and pulled him into the dark abyss that formed around him. He fell through the cold energy, a maelstrom forming around him and creating nauseating images. He landed on the soft grass of an unknown realm, dizzy and seriously on the verge of blowing something to dear hell. His breathing was shallow and vision unfocused. The sting of humiliation only increased when he heard the sound of tea being served and poured into a cup.

ʺReady to cooperate?ʺ

ʺYou are so dead! I am gonna use your blue skin as wallpaper and your wings as a good luck charm!ʺ

ʺOh, the chip of the old block.ʺ

ʺWhat the hell do you want?ʺ

ʺI want to save your miserable life, you juvenile delinquent.ʺ

ʺMy, how generous.ʺ

ʺWhy am I experiencing flashbacks all of a sudden?ʺ

ʺOld age getting to you.ʺ

ʺOh, how majestic. Tell me, boy, any purple sparks lately? ʺ

ʺ…Come again?ʺ

ʺYou know what I am talking about.ʺ

ʺNo. I have no clue.ʺ

ʺWe can always play my favourite game of Truth or Scare.ʺ

ʺI am never taking the garbage out again.ʺ

ʺHave you been wielding Poofʼs magic? Donʼt lie to me, witchling.ʺ

ʺNo.ʺ

ʺWrong answer. Liar, liar.ʺ

Blue flames engulfing everything around him. Shades of cobalt and indigo licking his skin and threatening to coagulate his fragile cells. Timmy paled and screamed until his lungs contracted to tiny bits of flesh, his heart precariously approaching the point of no return, his knees trembling. His inner voice was telling him something about sustaining burns. Excruciating pain…no. Something was not right. Anti-Cosmo was rolling on the ground with laughter.

ʺYou fell for it! You should have seen that look! Oh, I needed that.ʺ

ʺThey donʼt burn.ʺ

ʺYour powers of inference amaze me every time. Start talking. I can make them burn for real if you decide to give me fiction.ʺ

ʺAlright, I confess! It happened some days before Chester got his godparents. I was talking to Poof and it just happened. I…I thought it was him. It has to be him! Where did you get that information?! Nobody knows it.ʺ

ʺYou can thank the heavens for it. Jorgen would not hesitate to get rid of you. So much for your idealism.ʺ

ʺWhat?!ʺ

ʺYou have a few options. It is crucial that you weigh your choices wisely and without that annoying arrogant approach to serious matters of life and death. Donʼt flatter your ego, the world is not revolving around your holier-than-thou frame of mind. No deus ex machina, no prophecies, no Fairies, no Jorgen, no luck, no nonsense! I want you to confirm my reasons to think highly of you, I wish to see the manifestation of that latent genius I respect, I want to speak to your mature self, the one that was capable of motivating a legion of worthless Fairies and leading them to victory, the one that knows better than to pull the devil by the tail.ʺ

ʺEasy on the brandy.ʺ

ʺOh, bloody hell, Timothy. Stop pretending.ʺ

ʺWhat will happen then? The last piece of the puzzle placed and the world will stop being a safe place. My innocence shot down. I have everything to lose. Believe me, if it were not for my godparents, I would gladly come with you. You were giving me an eternity. Security, knowledge, power, but then what? Universal domination, come on. Who needs that? I suggest you go and do something productive with your time. Open up a chain of evil nightclubs. Profit guaranteed.ʺ

ʺEasy on those hallucinogenic products.ʺ

ʺSee, we are almost one and the same. Almost, donʼt get your hopes high. Your detailed and elaborate and my terse and concise. I am dancing between darkness and light, I was born on an equinox. I have no place. I am not as pure as Chester, I am not as rotten as you. No hard feelings. Go and get yourself a kid that will make you proud. I am not the right choice for you, Ace.ʺ

ʺYou are perfect.ʺ

ʺFine, your funeral.ʺ

ʺTimothy, come home with me.ʺ

ʺI canʼt betray Cosmo and Wanda.ʺ

ʺWhat will you do when your innocence dies alone and ashamed?ʺ

ʺBury it.ʺ

ʺMy castle is always open for you.ʺ

ʺLook at us, two idiots in the middle of nowhere. Remember when we met?ʺ

ʺOur hero. Our big stupid _anti-hero._ʺ

ʺI will stay with them for now. After that I donʼt know. If Jorgen and the Council decide that I am to die, then let it stay forever burned in their record. Poof is my familiar and he will slaughter them for it; he is my legacy, I gave my contribution to the world by doing the unthinkable, I created a Fairy and became the pariah of Fairy World because I loved too much.ʺ

ʺHold still, you sentimental fool.ʺ

Before Timmy could react, Anti-Cosmo grabbed his arm and pierced his skin with the onyx star. Glacial rays of indigo energy emerged and fused with his flesh, flowing into his blood.

ʺOuch, what is wrong with you, you jerk?!ʺ

ʺContinue…the more fury you give, the better.ʺ

ʺWhat?ʺ

ʺYou formed a link with Poof through love and care. You will form it with me through rage.ʺ

ʺAre you insane?!ʺ

ʺYes. I am not letting you waste yourself because of love. I am neutralising the current effect of Fairy magic and making it indetectable should they decide to search for its imprint. It will remain intact and Poof will still bear the title of your relation by magic. However, Anti-Fairy magic will fuse with it eventually and you will become a magic wielder _sui generis_. A hybrid. Rare, but not impossible to create. If something goes wrong, you march to my domain. You will thank me when you come of age.ʺ

ʺNo. This was not my choice.ʺ

ʺNot my problem, you wonʼt remember this when you come home. We pretend it never happened.ʺ

* * *

**Autor: Oh, my goodness, this almost drained me dry. Well, darling readers, here it is. This story is going to be huge and I can guarantee that I will do my best to update as soon as possible. Now, there is someone here with me. Alright, Anti-Cosmo, will you do the honours?**

**Anti-Cosmo: How dare you entertain such blasphemous thoughts?! Evil geniuses do not beg for reviews! **

**Author: Fine! I will do all the work and you continue sitting on your aristocratic behind. I do not fall into your exclusive club and can go on and grovel all I want for reviews.**

**Anti-Cosmo: What a waste of mental energy. Foolish child. My generous offer for the position of evil sidekick still stands if you decide to make yourself useful. I need someone to take care of the logistics when I take all the world leaders hostage.**

**Author: Sounds like a living.**


End file.
